With You - Alternate
by nerdypeach
Summary: this is a parallel to "With You" and cannot stand alone; explores a darker side to the interactions between and thoughts of Jean and Armin after certain circumstances... (caution: contains smut. read this one second)
1. Chapter 1

_Please read chapters 1-4 of With You before reading this one!_

_Since this is the first chapter for the "Alternate" version, please allow me to explain a few things:_

_It is NOT imperative that you read this version to understand the original With You._

_This version is not nearly as nice as the original. I do some pretty horrible and fucked up things. But later on down the road, I also do some pretty wonderful things (yay smut!)._

_This version of the story comes with a very severe __**WARNING**__ attached. (This is where all of those __**horrible**__ things I just mentioned come into play.) That "M" rating is there for a fucking reason - and not just because I like to use the word "fuck" a lot. _

_Don't say I didn't warn you!_

_If you agree to the above terms and conditions, then by all means, continue reading. If you do NOT agree, please leave this fic and find something else to read. _

_For those of you who stick around, don't hate me. I really am very nice to my little cupcakes in later chapters. :3_

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* * *

"Come on, Jean!" Marco called from the door. "We're going to be late!"

Jean rolled his eyes. "Keep your pants on," he grumbled, stepping into his own black trousers. He didn't understand why they had to go all the way to stupid Stohess on their day off. It was too damn early for this! Everyone had already left for the day, but he hadn't been ready to get up. The nightmares that had begun when he'd found Armin crying in the bathroom a couple of months ago had returned with a vengeance. Last night he'd been a spider, a caterpillar, an ant, and a horsefly. Each death had been more violent and longer than the previous one, yet he never woke.

"I'm going on ahead!" Marco shouted from outside. Jean shrugged him off and considered just crawling back into bed for a few more hours. Yawning loudly, he decided that Marco's plans would just have to wait for another day. He sank to his knees on his bunk and, after ducking his head, fell face-first into his pillow.

No nightmares came, but he still didn't sleep as well as he'd hoped for. It wasn't more than an hour before he was rolling over to his side, internally cursing the sun that shone in through the singular window by the door. Somehow, the beams of light managed to bypass every other bunk and hit him straight in the eyes. Flopping over onto his other side, he snatched the thin blanket up and covered his face, desperate for just a little bit of sleep.

The door to the barracks opened and Jean muttered every curse he could think of in quick succession. Did the gods hate him today? Was this a punishment for picking a fight with Eren about the idealistic bull shit he spewed? Should he just give up on the idea of ever getting another night of sleep? He listened to the footsteps as they scurried by, light and shuffling. Assuming someone probably just had to take a shit, Jean pressed his face into his pillow. He began to pray for sleep from gods he didn't believe in.

"Damn it!" Jean's eyes snapped open at the sudden scream from the washroom and glanced towards the back row of bunks. He frowned. That had been Armin's voice. He kicked his blanket away and sat up, ducking out of his bunk and heading for the washroom. Only a handful of long strides later, and he was staring at one empty side of the washroom. He sidestepped to the left, peering around the wall that separated the showers from the rest of the room.

"Woah!" He sprinted down the narrow space and caught Armin under his arms just as he sank to his knees. He hauled the blond to his feet and looked him over, realizing that, again, Armin had had the shit beat out of him. He looked worse this time, though.

"Go away, Jean!" Armin shouted, shoving Jean with both of his hands on Jean's shoulders with all of his might. Jean stumbled back, his eyes widening with surprise. "You're just making it all worse!" Armin wasn't looking at him as he screamed, but at the floor. Tears were splattering over his cheeks. Jean reached out one hand as Armin placed one foot behind himself to remain standing.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jean asked, the shock fading and transforming into a deep-set rage that began to burn its way through his chest. "Did those guys do this?" He could still see all of their faces- namely the leader's bloody nose after Armin had broken it.

"I knew it would only get worse..." The words were breathless. Jean barely made them out before he stepped forward to catch Armin once more. This time, the smaller boy didn't fight back. He was limp, his head falling forward, then rolling back as Jean shook him.

"Armin!" Jean shouted. "Hey, wake up!" He was unresponsive, though, and Jean cursed. He looked over Armin, noting his badly torn shirt, lip split in two places, scrapes on both cheeks, and a small cut on his forehead that was oozing blood. He lowered Armin to the floor, unsure of what else to do for the immediate moment. "What the fuck..." Jean's fingers grazed over Armin's shoulder, visible through the large rip at the seam. The two slightly uneven crescents were dashed with smaller lines- it was a bite-mark. His stomach twisted into unpleasant knots as he grimaced. His eyes drifted over the rest of the smaller boy. It took everything he had in him not to vomit when he saw the smear of blood on Armin's white pants.

Mind racing, he lowered Armin completely to the floor as gently as he could. He stood and ran to grab his jacket- the first thing he could get his hands on. Sprinting back, he tossed the jacket over Armin's much smaller frame. He crouched and wrapped one arm under Armin's shoulders and the other under his knees, pulling him close to his chest before standing. Armin's head flopped around a bit as Jean spun and darted back out toward the bunks. The blond was a lot heavier than he looked.

He half jogged, half ran through Trost, aiming for the small hospital that lay only a few blocks away. Jean didn't care what anyone saw or thought. He was overwhelmed with disgust by what those guys had done to him. He shoved open the door to the hospital, pushing by an elderly man to get to the nurse standing in the lobby.

"You have to help him!" Jean demanded, panting hard. The nurse looked startled, but raised her hand to signal a man resting against the wall further down the hall that stretched behind her.

"What happened?" she asked as Jean surrendered Armin to the man.

"I found him like that," Jean muttered, feeling the uncomfortable sting of tears as he watched the man take Armin down the hall and into a room. The woman was staring at him hard, her eyebrows pulling together.

"What's his name?" she clipped, grabbing a clipboard and a pencil.

"Armin Arlert," Jean muttered. He felt the bile from his stomach rising. "I'll... be right back." He turned and ran for the door, skidding around the next immediate corner into a small alley, and puking all over the ground- barely missing his boots. Anger and worry clashed inside of him, waging war on his stomach. He slammed his fist into the wall beside him as he swiped at the tears that had spilled down his cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

_Continued from the last chapter…_

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* * *

Where the fuck was Eren? And what about Mikasa? They were always with Armin, so why not now? Why hadn't they been there to protect him? Jean stomped out of the alley, looking for blood. He didn't care who he came across first. Whether it was Eren or one of the guys from the group that had attacked Armin, he swore to beat the hell out of someone.

Eren was the lucky one to be spotted first. He and Mikasa were just walking down the street. Eren even chuckled at something Mikasa had said. Jean shot forward, his outstretched hand grasping the back of Eren' shirt and slamming him against the wall to his right. Jean's other fist came around, connecting to Eren's cheek with enough force to toss his head to the side and squish it against the wall.

"Jean!" Mikasa shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him back. He held his ground, his hand at Eren's collar tightening and shoving him higher against the wall.

"Where the fuck were you two?" he shouted. "I thought you were his friends!"

"What are you talking about?" Eren screamed back, holding his cheek with one hand. Mikasa managed to jerk Jean back with a harsh tug.

"I'm talking about Armin," Jean hissed. He was suddenly aware of the attention he'd brought on himself from those in the crowd milling about on the road. Eren's expression hardened.

"What about Armin?" Mikasa asked, her dark eyes narrowed.

"These guys..." Jean glanced over his shoulder, tossing a particularly nasty and hateful stare at a few onlookers. "This group of guys... They attacked him."

"Who?" Eren demanded, raising his fists.

Jean grimaced. "Why weren't you there to protect him? I thought you guys were always together!"

Mikasa held up a brightly colored bag. "We were getting him a birthday present."

"Tell us where he is, Jean!" Eren demanded.

"He's in the fucking hospital!" Jean snapped. "I just took him there! Now I don't know about you two, but I'm going to go find the pricks that did this!" Jean couldn't look at Eren's stupid face anymore. He wanted to smash it in. He looked around for a moment, trying to remember exactly where it was that they'd seen the group of guys last time. He knew Eren and Mikasa were following, and was sort of glad they were. He wanted the leader for himself, though, and he wasn't going to let him get away with only a broken nose this time.

"What did they do to him?" Eren asked, his pinched expression dark and intense.

Jean sucked his teeth, his stomach churning as he thought about it. He couldn't make himself say the words. "Something horrible," he muttered instead. His short nails were digging holes into his palms as he stomped through the street. "I'm going to kill them." He was almost surprised at how much he meant the words, but it didn't stop him. His eyes were combing the street, searching for who he knew was responsible.

He spotted one of them. Darting away from the street and into the dirty and ark alley where the short, dark-haired member of the group was, Jean lashed out. He lunged, fist connecting to the older boy's cheek and knocking him to the ground. Jean kicked him several times then fell to his knees on top of him, throwing punch after punch. He couldn't stop, even as he felt bones breaking and sinking under his heavy blows. It was Mikasa's hand on his shoulder pulling him back that kept him from actually killing the boy. Jean stood over the whimpering and shaking piece of shit and spat on him.

When he turned around, he saw the red-headed twins in a similar state on the ground not far away. "How many more?" Eren asked. He had a split lip, but he looked just as charged up as Jean felt.

"Three," he answered. "I don't know what one of them looks like, though."

"Hopefully he will be with the others," Mikasa stated flatly. Jean glanced over at her. She didn't look angry at first, but he could see the wrinkles in her forehead and chin and the way her fists were clenched like his own.

Jean spotted the abandoned tea cart about a block up the road. He knew of a series of alleys back there, all connecting from nearby buildings spanning the street they were on and the next one over. When he was a kid, he'd gotten lost in the maze of dark passages. It made sense for this street gang to take over and use the alleys. Jean felt his rage and energy building as he considered the possibility that this was where they'd taken Armin. Had they hurt him so horribly first time and he just didn't notice? Just inside the main passageway, he stopped. He had to vomit again. He muttered dark curses as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Jean?" Eren asked, hovering over him.

Jean stood swiftly and shoved Eren out of the way as he stalked by him. "Let's find these guys." Truthfully, he wanted to go back to the hospital to see Armin. He wanted to sit by his side until he felt better and tell him that the pieces of shit that hurt him wouldn't ever do it again. He would be surprised if the three they'd already taken care of weren't permanently disabled from the blows to their heads. Jean had made sure to kick the short one in the balls as hard as he could as well.

"What the fuck?" They all heard the surprised shout from an even darker side alley. It was the largest one of the group- the bald man with the beard. Mikasa sidestepped the man's punch, grabbed his shirt, and tossed him to the ground. Jean moved on, searching for the leader. He needed to hurt that man. He needed to destroy him, ruin him from ever hurting anyone else ever again.

"Look what we have here!" Two guys stepped from the shadows in front of Jean and Eren. The leader with the buzz cut was smirking at Jean, his eyes half lidded. "Pissed that we got to play with your little boyfriend again?" Jean rushed forward, ready to kill the man. He noticed the glint of the knife too late.

"Jean!" Eren shouted.

Jean took one step backward, his hand gripping his shoulder where the short blade was sticking out. Something inside of him snapped. He saw red. He felt his body moving, but it was like he was watching himself from above as he kicked the leader full in the chest. He knew he was hitting him and kicking him, but he couldn't feel himself landing the blows. The world was dim and gray. All that existed for Jean was the blood that gushed from the man's face.

"Stop!" Someone was dragging him away, but Jean wasn't ready to quit. The man wasn't dead yet!

"Let me go!" He roared, struggling against the arms that held him.

"No! Snap out of it, Jean!"

Jean struggled for a moment more, but the world had begun to return to him in pieces. It was the burning pain that ripped through his shoulder every time he moved it that made him stop fighting. His hands, arms, and legs began to ache from the exertion. Stomach churning and head pounding, he took several deep breaths.

"Come on, we need to get you looked at." He realized that he didn't recognize the voice of the person hauling him to his feet. It was Eren that grabbed his arm and helped hold him up, though. Reluctantly, Jean accepted the help. He gazed up at the man before him and saw the Garrison soldier from before, when Armin had broken the leader's nose.

"Hannes," Eren muttered, "you aren't going to punish us for this, are you?"

The man rubbed the back of his head for a moment, then shrugged. "A rival gang must have come through and done this." Jean understood this and smirked.

"Thanks," he muttered. He was surprised to hear how hoarse his own voice sounded.

"Let's get you to the hospital and we can see how Armin is doing." Jean nodded once and began to limp along beside Eren. He wasn't sure when his leg had been hurt, and he didn't know what was wrong with it exactly- he only knew he couldn't put much weight on it.

Jean drifted in and out of himself as they made their way back to the hospital. He was sure he was going to get in trouble with Shadis, but he found he didn't care. Whatever punishment came, it would be worth it for Armin's sake. At some point, Jean found himself on a cot and cursing as the pain in his shoulder increased to a fire that seemed to melt through him. It faded quickly, though, and he closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_Continued from the last chapter…_

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He hadn't been able to eat or sleep for almost two days now. All he could think of were those guys… And he grabbed the small trashcan, vomiting once more. He refused to let anyone come see him, and he refused to leave the little hospital room. The nurse was trying to be helpful and cheery, but it just made him feel worse. He wanted to remain curled up in his little ball of solitude underneath the thin blanket and never emerge.

It wasn't _fair_, dammit! What had he done to deserve this? All he'd wanted to do was walk to the little bakery and buy himself and Eren and Mikasa some cookies.

_Fucking cookies_!

Chocolate cake had been ruined for him years ago- when his parents died. Now he'd never eat another cookie again. Last night, when the nurse had brought him the two oatmeal cookies- trying to cheer him up, he guessed- he'd thrown them at her. The woman sent in after her was older and fatter and much less nice, but he preferred it that way.

"Good afternoon!" He cringed against the high-pitched voice. She was nothing but rainbows and butterflies and he hated her for it. "Your friends are still asking to see you. Don't you think you should tell them you're okay?"

"No." He tucked the blanket around him head a little tighter and buried his face into the pillow. Something in him just wished he could smother himself, but the moment he needed another breath, he tilted his head just enough to get it. How could he face Eren and Mikasa? Or Jean? If he couldn't even look at them, how in the world was he supposed to lie and tell them that he was perfectly alright?

"You can't hide under that blanket forever, you know." He could hear her rustling around in the room, but he didn't bother to find out what she was doing. It didn't matter. She didn't matter.

_But what _did_ matter?_

He didn't have an answer for that. Not yet. He knew that, for now, all he could do was try to block everything out. He just wanted to forget, to pretend he was hurting for another reason. Bolting upright, he bent and grabbed the little trashcan. His vomit was thin and watery; it burned the back of his throat.

The nurse appeared before him once he was finished. There was a glass of water in her hand. He accepted it, but didn't look up at her and didn't show any sort of gratitude. His grandfather would have been ashamed by his horrible behavior, but that thought only made him ache even more.

Moving to curl back up in his ball facing the plain wall, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and a commotion outside of his room. The door was cracked- intentionally, of course- and he could see out into the hall. It was Jean. The nurse dropped her hand from his shoulder and moved over to the door just as Jean reached the other side.

"I'm sorry, but you can't come in here." Armin could hear the regret in her soft voice, still high-pitched, but somehow, not as annoying. He glimpsed Jean looking over her head, staring straight at him, though Armin would not meet his eyes. Instead, he grabbed the blanket and covered himself entirely as he lay back down.

"Armin!" Jean called. "Tell her to let me in!"

"Go away." Armin was aware that Jean probably hadn't been able to hear the low request, but he didn't repeat himself. Before yesterday, he considered Jean a friend, and thought that, just maybe, Jean might have thought of him as a friend too. Now, though, he was certain Jean only pitied him like Eren and Mikasa. They were kind enough to hide it and pretend like they didn't, but Jean was too honest for that.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Jean shouted. "Move, lady!" He could hear the scuffle, but didn't pull the blanket down to look. He just wanted Jean to give up and go away. "Armin, you selfish son-of-a-bitch! Tell her to let me in here!"

That had surprised him. _Selfish_? He'd never really thought of himself that way. But maybe- maybe he was selfish. After all, the only person in the world he had focused on for the last day and a half had been himself. He blamed the cookies. He blamed those guys. He blamed himself. His pain wasn't going away, though, and he knew it wouldn't for a very long time. Was it really so selfish of him to pity himself- at least for a little while?

"I don't want to talk to you, Jean!" Armin shouted, cringing hard against the tears that burned his eyes and constricted his throat. "Go away!" He'd tried to sound angry or mean, but his voice cracked at the very end, and he sobbed into the pillow by his face.

Why? Why him? Why _yesterday_, of all days? Why did Jean have to pick that fight with them? He'd just made everything worse! But he couldn't really blame Jean, now could he? He'd only been trying to help. But those men…

Again, Armin had to vomit. He flopped over and half sat up as his hand brought the small can close to his face. There was almost nothing for him to vomit up this time. He dry-heaved a half-dozen times before he could just relax. Tossing the blanket back over his head, he didn't bother to roll over and face the wall or even curl up into the ball again.

He was so tired… All he wanted to do was sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, though, he'd see their cold eyes and dark intentions. He'd feel the impact of the brick wall on his face. Their hands were tearing at his clothes again, or throwing hard punches, or grabbing him… He shuddered, though his eyes were carefully trained on the dark wood paneling. He'd fallen asleep only once, and woke in the middle of one of the worst nightmares of his life: what they'd done to him- done all over again.

There was a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, though the thin gray blanket didn't allow him to see who it was. He knew the weight and size of that hand couldn't have been that of the nurse's, though. It hurt. Not physically, but emotionally.

Jean had been nice to him. He'd beat up those guys the first time. He'd carried him to the hospital yesterday. It didn't feel right to hate him, but he did. He hated everything Jean represented: strength, honesty, courage. He was weak. He was a coward. He was pathetic.

"I…" He tensed when he heard Jean's voice again. The hand on his shoulder vanished and he curled up once more, trying to hide inside of himself. "Armin…"

"Please go away." He wasn't sure if his whisper was heard. The room was very quiet for a long moment. He didn't even hear the nurse shuffling things around.

"No." The word had a solid note to it. With a heavy sigh, Armin squeezed his eyes shut.

Again, he could see them: the leader catching him by the wrist as he walked down the street. His nose had been buried in a book. He'd had no warning. Snatched into the alley, the book fell from his hands. He'd tried to fight them off- he'd tried his hardest- but with all six of them grabbing him and shoving him, punching, kicking, pinching, and tearing, he wasn't able to even free one hand or foot.

"I… I know…" Jean was struggling with his words- a first, as far as Armin knew. "Look, I know what those fucking assholes did to you, and I'm really sorry about that, but they won't do it again. I swear. I made sure of it this time." The anger and passion in his words were enough to distract Armin, if just for a single moment. He opened his eyes and looked up at where he was certain Jean was standing on the other side of the blanket. He felt fingertips graze over his arm as the blanket gathered and was pulled away.

"Stop." His voice was still soft, though without any particular inflection. His request denied, the blanket slipped away from his head. Jean was standing in front of him, shirtless, with one arm in a sling. "What…?"

Jean sighed. "Don't worry about it." Armin sat up slowly, allowing the grimace that revealed how much pain even that simple action caused. A deep wrinkle formed over Jean's nose, between his eyebrows. "Are you…"

"No," Armin muttered, looking down at the white sheets. "I'm not okay. Not even close." It was his turn to be honest. He'd lied for so many long years. It was rare for him to ever be really "okay". But he put on a brave face and he forced himself through the day, bearing the torture that was physical training.

Jean reached up with his right hand and scratched at the shaggy undercut on the back of his head. Armin glanced back up, watching as he let his hand fall. A strange look of some sort of determination crossed Jean's features for a moment. He took a few steps to his left, then crawled onto the foot of Armin's bed, relaxing with his back to the wall.

"I'm really not either." It was strange to hear that sort of confession come from someone who was constantly boasting about his abilities. Jean was picking at the edge of the sling holding his left arm in place.

"What happened to your arm?" Armin asked. He thought it was a safe question, maybe one that would distract him for a moment.

"The leader guy stabbed me." Images of the knife used to threaten him even as he was held into place against the rough brick wall consumed him for a moment. "I… I killed him, I think."

Armin's head snapped up to look at Jean. There was a darkness to his expression: something in the way his eyes were narrowed, how his eyebrows were pulled together over his nose, the grimace-come-frown that had etched itself like a permanent scar over Jean's lips.

Was he really dead? Did Jean really do that? But… _why_? And then, Armin found he didn't care. The leader of the street gang had caused all of this pain- he deserved to die. He hadn't felt that way about anyone before, but now…

"Thank you."

Jean's eyes widened, his eyebrows lifted, and his mouth fell open into a slack-jawed stare. Armin tucked his chin to his chest, lowering his gaze to the space between them on the bed. "Don't… don't mention it."

Armin's eyes leveled onto Jean once more. "You can't tell me that you killed the bastard that did this to me and then tell me not to mention it. It doesn't work like that, Jean." He just opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking for a way to respond to Armin's words. Armin stared at the mattress again. "Please, just let me be grateful…"

"Okay." Jean took a deep breath and exhaled in a loud huff. When Armin looked back up at him, he was holding his left shoulder. He could see the thin line of black stitches that crossed Jean's shoulder diagonally. His fingers were digging into the skin on the outside of his arm. Jean stared at him for a moment, then smirked with a short chuckle. "You look like shit."

Armin felt some of the weight lift from his shoulders. He cracked a half of a smile. "You don't look any better." Truthfully, Armin didn't know what he looked like. He hadn't seen a mirror since the morning before all this had started. Jean really didn't look so bad, just a little on the tired side, and bearing a few bruises like the one on his cheek below his eye and a few on his bare chest and back Armin had spotted earlier.

Jean shrugged his right shoulder. "Yeah, well, at least we don't have to worry about going back to training for a while, right?" Armin nodded once. The dull, aching throb that had started when he'd sat up began to travel up his spine and become sharper, like someone was stabbing him again and again. Jean must have noticed. "Lay down."

He did not complain, simply curled into a ball on his side once more, though rather than staring down the wall, he was glancing up at Jean every few seconds, alternating with longer moments of staring at the blanket he'd wrapped around his shoulders. "Who else knows what happened?"

"I don't know." Armin sighed a little at Jean's answer. "Eren and Mikasa didn't find out much, but they probably guessed well enough. Marco knows I was stabbed, but he doesn't know why I got into that fight in the first place."

"I don't want their pity," Armin whispered. Unwanted images of the leader's crooked nose hovering over his face and the hands gripping his hips made him shudder for a moment.

"I'm sorry." Jean's voice was soft, almost childlike in the tone. It was different enough to distract Armin from the images that were beginning to overwhelm him. Jean hadn't apologized for anything, to his limited knowledge, the entire time they'd been in training together. He was always cocky, boasting about his skills with the 3DM gear. Other than Marco, Armin had never really seen Jean speak with anyone seriously.

Armin couldn't say that it wasn't his fault or that it was okay or that he didn't blame him. None of those things were true. Logically, it really wasn't Jean's fault and he didn't deserve any blame, but Armin didn't have it in him to think about things logically right now. Part of him wanted to yell and scream at Jean with everything he had, but he didn't have the energy for it. Instead, he yawned and continued the struggle to keep his eyes open.

"Why don't you just go to sleep?" Jean asked. He sat up, no longer resting against the wall.

"Nightmares." His whispered reply received no comment for a very on moment. He and Jean were both silent, contemplative, as they each stared at their own piece of the white sheets. Armin was fighting the unwanted memories with his hatred of cookies and chocolate cake, only sparing Jean a glance when the older boy shifted his weight on the bed.

It wasn't long before Armin couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He had struggled for too long, and without the energy necessary to stay awake or even move much, sleep came despite his wish that it didn't. There was no telling how long he was really able to sleep before he the images came back to haunt him.

He could hear himself begging, the echo of his voice bouncing off of the close walls in the maze of alleys they'd drug him through. Attempting to fight them off was getting him nowhere. Then the knife had appeared, just a threat, and then it was pressed to the side of his throat, and it suddenly became very, very real. Every bit of fight he'd had left faded, sort of drained away and fizzled out into a silent acceptance of what was happening to him. Their hands were everywhere- bruising and pinching, tearing at his clothes. They mocked him, calling him names not unlike the children who had bullied him before the Fall.

He could feel the cold brick wall scraping over his skin. The icy wind sliced straight through him. Hot, searing pain replaced the chill as he struggled for a moment more. Warm tears fell over his cheeks. The man's wet, stinking breath hit the back of his neck as he panted from the exertion.

Just before the worst of it began, Armin felt it fade and shimmer away. The sensations, previously so strong and real- as if it were all happening again- vanished. The conflicting variations of hot and cold settled into a steady and much more pleasant warmth. He could feel someone's heartbeat- his own?- and it calmed him.

* * *

_Just a quick word from the author:_

_Don't think any of this was easy for me to write. It's pretty fucking hard, actually. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Continued from the last chapter…._

_(4)_

* * *

Jean frowned hard. He didn't understand anything. As the realization hit him full-force, he felt the burning sensation in his chest and throat meet and match the same feeling behind his eyes. No matter how much he wanted to pretend that he was so much more mature than the others, at this moment, he'd accepted that he was just as naive as they were.

Armin had been having a nightmare. He'd tried shaking him at first, just trying to wake him up, but that hadn't worked. Panicking, Jean had called his name a few times, but still received no positive response, only a shudder and a soft plea of "no". And then he'd started shaking, so Jean had done the only thing he could think of. He'd climbed around to the other side of Armin, gathered him up with his only good arm, and just held him against his chest.

Taking several deep breaths, he tried to stop the tears that threatened him. What good were tears, anyway? And why was he crying in the first place? Armin was the one who'd been hurt beyond the repair of a few simple stitches. His arm tightened around Armin's chest as he held him against his own, half sitting up and half laying down. Hatred for the men who'd done this filled him once more, and as he thought about what he'd done to the leader, he could feel no guilt.

He'd taken a life, hadn't he? Wasn't that supposed to change a person? Just watching so many people die in front of them during the Fall had seriously freaked out a lot of his fellow trainees. Why didn't he feel burdened by his crime? Was the guilt just waiting to creep up on him, or was he really that proud of himself for what he'd done (although he couldn't really remember much of it)?

The Garrison soldier, Hannes, had stopped by with Eren and Mikasa after he'd woken back up. They'd all confirmed the leader's death for him. He hadn't felt guilty then, only a slight tinge of sadness. It wasn't for the leader that he felt sad, though. He felt that it was his fault Armin had been hurt this second time (or were there other times, and he just didn't know?). He should have done something more the first time- should have broken more bones or made bigger threats or something.

But he hadn't, and Armin had suffered for it. His guilt was directed towards himself for not being there. The truth was, he had no idea what Armin had really suffered. He couldn't imagine being in his position. He didn't blame Armin at all for wanting to be left alone or for being upset or angry. Jean knew himself well enough to know that he would have acted out far worse. How could he make this right, though? What could he do to help?

The answer was unpleasant: nothing. He didn't have any way to comfort the boy currently resting against his chest. His gut wrenched, making him want to borrow the little can Armin had puked into earlier. He resisted, if only for the fact that holding Armin as he was had stopped whatever nightmare the boy had been having.

Jean cursed himself and everything that had happened. He still couldn't even think the word, but he felt it deep in his still-knotted up gut. Where was the fun of joining the Military Police now? He'd wanted to live in comfort and luxury for the rest of his life, but what was the point if he knew that people were going to continue to suffer? It was the MP's job to take care of the scum that had done this to Armin- but it had been a Garrison soldier who'd come each time. The MPs were nowhere to be found- even now.

The room darkened around him as the sun began to fall behind the nearby buildings. He felt himself darken as well. He couldn't still be the same kid, now. And he had been, he realized, still just a kid before this moment. "Growing up" hadn't happened the way he'd expected it to- gradually and over time. No, it had been instant and harsh, filling his entire body with a sudden hatred towards the ones that had forced this upon him- and Armin.


	5. Chapter 5

_Please do not read this until you have read through chapter 12 of the original With You._

* * *

_(1)_

* * *

Any time spent alone was a rare treat. Armin often considered it a gift from the gods he'd read about in the book Jean had given him for his birthday. Time spent alone with Jean was even more precious to him, but he kept that a secret from everyone - including Jean.

This day off had come as a surprise to everyone. Shadis had announced it just moments after their morning run. Nearly everyone had decided to leave for the day, since spring had warmed everything without it being too hot. Eren and Mikasa had tried to drag him along with them, as usual, but he'd refused this time. He didn't want to go anywhere and he didn't want to do anything.

When he'd returned to the barracks, he'd assumed he'd be alone for the day. He walked through the door with a small, content smile. He just wanted to read. The book in his hand went flying the instant he'd closed the door. Panic had flooded him at first. Arms had grabbed him from behind just like that one time that seemed like a million years ago, but he remembered it as if it had been just yesterday.

But he knew these arms, and he knew this smell. The moment of panic vanished like a puff of smoke and he relaxed with a sigh. "You scared me."

"Sorry." He didn't try to turn around. He knew it was Jean. He reach up and found Jean's hand pressed against his heart. He squeezed once.

The moment was brief, though. Jean's arms fell away. He was standing by himself as he listened to Jean's footsteps retreat. It was only then that he bent to retrieve his book and head for his own bunk. He still wasn't sure what Jean was trying to accomplish when he gave him those strange hugs, but he never complained.

He crossed the barracks and found his bunk. He pulled off his boots and jacket before he settled himself on the bed with the book open in his lap. He couldn't repress the smile that crossed his face when he felt Jean looking at him.

Back in the cave, Jean had held him for almost the entire day after he'd woken up. The hypothermia had left him, but Jean didn't let him go for more than a few minutes at the time. Every time he sat down, Jean sat behind him with both arms wrapped around him. Annie never said a word about it, but when Jean would leave him, she'd mimic his actions. No one ever spoke, but Armin always felt better.

A billion years ago, when he'd been in the hospital, he'd flinched away from every touch. For months afterward, he couldn't let anyone touch him. Jean and Annie had broken that reaction.

Eren and Mikasa were his best friends, but Jean and Annie were too, just in a different way. Annie would still sometimes squeeze his shoulder as she passed, but Jean… Jean liked to hold him, and Armin always wanted him to. He couldn't bring himself to ask him to do it, but Jean always knew when he needed it.

He doubted that anyone else would understand. If he and Jean were caught, then whoever caught them would probably jump to conclusions. It wasn't romantic, though - not really. He smiled again.

-0-0-0-

Armin wasn't really reading. He was staring at the pages and smiling. Jean wasn't sure, but he didn't think he was imagining the little bit of blush on Armin's cheeks. He felt something stir in his stomach. How could he explain it?

It wasn't something he thought he'd ever become adjusted to feeling whenever he looked at Armin. He always thought about what had happened to him. The guys, the hospital, the cave… And suddenly he just wanted to hold him again. He wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, but how could he? Everything was _not_ okay.

When Armin had curled up against him in the tent that night and his lips and nose had been at his neck, Jean had felt something stir inside of himself. He couldn't name it. He still liked Mikasa, still wanted her. But Armin…

Armin was probably the only other real friend he had besides Marco. Marco had become something more than just his friend, but he didn't know how to put that into words, either. He was just so damn confused all the time.

He had different emotions when he was near all three of them, but they all caused a similar reaction. His stomach would clench. He'd feel his palms begin to sweat. His heart would beat just a little faster.

Mikasa was just… distant. She was unobtainable. She and Eren were always so tied up together that he knew he never even had the slightest chance with her.

Marco was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with. Marco made him feel better when he was conflicted. Marco was kind and an amazing friend. He could tell Marco almost anything…

But Armin…

He wanted to protect Armin. He wanted to shield him from all of the fucked up things the world constantly saw fit to throw at him. He'd heard so many people whisper about him and call him a crybaby and other nasty things, but he never tried to fight them. Yeah, Armin cried a lot, but if anyone had a reason to cry, it was him. Jean hated it when he heard the things people would say about him, but he'd always just go to Marco and talk about something else to forget about it. Armin was stronger than any of them - just in ways that didn't count as a cadet. Everyone knew he was smart, and that counted for him, but nothing else did. It was hard to measure resilience, especially when so few people knew about all the shit he'd bounced back from.

He came back full circle and felt the same bitter confusion. He could try to work it out, but the end result was always the same: he just didn't know.

Frustrated with himself, he crossed his arms behind his head and flopped back on his bed. He heard Armin rustling around but didn't look over at him again. He didn't know why he was trying to fool himself. Armin was going to join the Survey Corps in just a few months. He couldn't protect him then...

But for now... While he still could, he wanted to figure out what made Armin so special to him...

-0-0-0-

He had finally slipped into his book. The entire world vanished around him as he retreated into his mind. He could see everything so clearly when he was reading, like his mind could paint it all out for him with the least amount of effort.

"Hey Armin..." The illusion was shattered, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset about it. He looked up from the page. Jean had come to stand right beside him. It wasn't unusual for the world to change around him without his notice while he was reading, but something about finding Jean so close bothered him. He didn't mind that Jean was there; he was mad at himself for not realizing it sooner.

"What is it?" He tilted his head back to look up at him.

Everything happened very quickly. Armin was almost certain he'd imagined it for a moment, but Jean was still so close and his cheeks were red.

His book had been brushed to the side. Jean still had his hands on Armin's shoulders. He was so _close_...

"J-Jean?" He reached up with one hand. Jean caught his fingers just as he was about to press them to his lips. "What..."

And then he did it again. The world shifted beneath him. Somehow, he was pressed back against the headboard. Jean was still holding on to his hand. The hand that was on his shoulder moved up to his neck. Armin tilted his head back.

He was kissing Jean.

It didn't seem real. It felt like a daydream - an incredibly warm and vivid daydream. His fingers were digging into the front of Jean's shirt, grasping at him as if to determine whether or not he was real.

And then it was over and Jean was sitting on the edge of his bed. He'd pulled Armin's fingers away from his shirt and had let go of his hand. He felt like a fish out if water, just gaping at Jean in surprise and opening and closing his mouth without words ever coming out

What was he supposed to say after something like that? Jean was staring at his hands in his lap, his whole face and neck flushed deep red. Armin reached out, but didn't realize his hand was shaking until he latched onto Jean's sleeve.

He was on his knees and inching closer. Jean looked up at him, worry and surprise and guilt etched into his features. Armin knew he was still shaking, but he couldn't stop it.

Something sparked in him, and he knew he needed to kiss Jean again. There was no explanation, no reason, no justification. He just... wanted to.

Lifting his other hand, he put it on Jean's cheek, enjoying the heat as he turned his face and kissed him again. He felt selfish and greedy, but he didn't care just at that moment. He knew he'd kissed Jean with more... gusto than Jean had kissed him, but it felt more real this time.

He sat back on his calves after he pulled away. Jean was still just staring at him, lips pressed tightly together and a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows.

"I... uh..." Armin looked down at his hands in his lap as they twisted together.

"Sorry..." Jean stood up and moved over to his own bunk, laying down once more with his arms crossed beneath his head. Even with his eyes closed, he still had that expression on his face. Armin suddenly felt very guilty.

"I'll... leave you alone if you want." He had grabbed his book and was standing. He was about to grab his books and flee to the little porch to put them on.

"No." Jean's voice was muffled. When Armin looked back over at him, he found him face-down in his pillow. "I don't... know... _why_."

Armin felt some of the guilt fade just a little bit. He wanted to do it again, but kept himself seated on his own bed. Someone could have seen that... He didn't think he'd mind, exactly, but Jean might. He had already been so much trouble for Jean... The last thing he wanted to do was cause more problems.

"Don't be sorry." It was all he could think to say. He wasn't sorry...

"I shouldn't have done that..."

And the guilt returned. Had he made a mistake when he kissed Jean? He hadn't even thought about it. He'd just done it. Like a stupid little kid. He frowned down at his book. He stood and grabbed his boots. He couldn't stay here now. Jean might have regretted the kiss, but he didn't. That only made him feel worse.

He sat down on the stairs and pulled on his boots. He'd left his jacket, but it was warm outside. He darted over to the practice area and found his own private little corner of the world. There was a hollowed out tree where he could sit and read without being found or disturbed. He'd found it soon after joining, but had only had the chance to visit the tree a few times. As he settled himself against the smooth inside, he frowned.

This was probably going to be the only place he went to read from now on.


	6. Chapter 6

_Continued from the last chapter…_

_(2)_

* * *

Armin was avoiding him.

Armin wouldn't speak to him.

Armin wouldn't look at him.

Armin wouldn't touch him.

He'd tried to grab a hug just once, but Armin had slipped by him without a backward glance or a word in return. He blamed himself for ruining everything.

Jean was left with Marco more often than not. Annie and Armin were together a lot now too. Armin had even started blowing off Eren and Mikasa in favor of Annie. To hear them tell it, Annie was helping him out with hand-to-hand, but Jean knew better.

He shouldn't have kissed Armin. He even thought about telling Marco what he'd done, but he was worried that Marco wouldn't understand. Besides, when Marco had taken his hand and dragged him along on a trip to Stohess, Jean had felt those strange flutters in his chest and stomach again.

Maybe things were better this way. Marco was going to the Military Police with him. Annie was too, but she didn't really have much to do with him anymore anyway. He knew he deserved it. Armin had most likely told her everything.

That was part of the problem. Annie already knew, so telling her wasn't a big deal. Jean didn't have anyone to talk to, though. He just kept it bottled up inside.

His fights with Eren had started again, but now they were much worse. They didn't just throw a few punches and call it quits anymore; they were fighting in earnest. If anyone had asked, he would have said that he was preparing himself for the final exams, but no one bothered.

Maybe he liked Marco better anyway. He still wasn't sure. Stolen kisses and fumbling hands in the dark didn't seem quite so intimidating, though. He didn't feel as guilty. Marco wasn't someone he had to look after and protect because Marco could take care of himself. It was easier to like Marco.

Final exams crept ever closer. Their squad had all but disintegrated. They ran the required drills together, but they had fallen behind other squads in their performance. Before, they had been one of the strongest. He and Annie were fearsome and deadly, falling behind only Mikasa and Reiner. Armin was always smart enough to come up with the best strategies, too. He worked with all of their strengths and weaknesses to make them function better as a team. As it was now, he didn't seem to care much. He and Annie would work with him only as long as absolutely necessary.

Every time he looked at Armin he felt guilty. How could he have kissed him? It wasn't fair to Armin. Jean felt more like he'd taken advantage of him, and that made him hate himself. Marco seemed to know that something was going on, but he never mentioned it. Marco was his perfect distraction.

-0-0-0-

Jean was cruel.

He'd said the kiss was a mistake, then tried to pretend like it never happened. Armin had done his best to pretend too, but it was more difficult than he'd imagined. So he'd tried to avoid him at all costs. It was easier that way. Jean could be happy with Marco if he wanted to. He had Annie, at least... Not that she was interested in him. She was always distracted about something, but he never asked what. He hadn't breathed a word of what happened to her, but she seemed to know all the same.

They never spoke about it. Their conversations revolves around tactical maneuvers and hand-to-hand lessons. Armin was getting a little better, but he still didn't compare to even Krista. Annie ignored Jean, but she always had in a way. He guessed it was a little more obvious now, but he hadn't asked her to do it.

He'd lost Jean in every way. He had hoped that maybe they would be able to salvage some of their friendship, but that was an impossibility. He owed Jean too much. There was no way he could ever compensate for everything that Jean had done for him. His guilt was eating him alive.

He preferred Annie's company to anyone else's. She was easy to be around because she didn't bug him with questions or ask him to do anything he didn't want to. Even when they were together, she kept to herself. They talked about books sometimes, and other times they spoke about more abstract things. She was his escape from the others. Annie didn't expect anything from him. He liked that about her.

He never went to Trost alone anymore. Annie usually went with him. They would wander around without much purpose most of the time.

"Why don't you go by yourself?" Her question was flat. She wasn't annoyed, just mildly curious.

He hesitated before answering. She pulled on her boots and started walking with him before he worked up the courage to say anything.

"Remember last year..." He trailed off, afraid to continue. He hadn't told anyone. Jean was the only person who knew.

"You spent a week in the hospital," she finished for him. Her eyes cut into him from the side, but she didn't turn to look at him or stop. He nodded.

They walked another block before he spoke again. "I... There were these guys..." The words were caught in his throat.

"I saw Jean, Eren, and Mikasa beating some guys up around that time." Armin looked over at her, but she was expressionless as always. She gave a little shrug when she glanced at him. "Never thought it was related."

He nodded once. "Those guys..." He took a deep breath and lowered his head. "They... attacked me." He couldn't say the word. Jean hadn't been able to say it either.

"Oh."

Annie never questioned him again. If they had some time in the afternoons, she would suggest they go somewhere. He never asked her to join him again. He didn't have to.

He still had the nightmares sometimes. When he was jerked awake, he'd go sit outside. He figured Shadis knew what had happened. Whenever he was found, no one scolded him and told him to get back into bed. Annie usually found him. They just shared the silence together. He never asked why she always seemed to be awake at strange hours of the night.

Armin tried to make himself fade away. He sat with Annie only because they both knew they'd probably never see each other again after they graduated. Eren and Mikasa were angry with him about it, but they were nice enough to pretend like they weren't. Sometimes he hated them. They were both so much stronger than he was.

He spent time with them, though. They were still his best friends. Eren and Mikasa knew him longer than anyone else had. He and Eren had been friends for as long as he could remember. When Mikasa came to live with them, she became his friend too. Now he and Mikasa were going to follow Eren to the Survey Corps. Armin could only hope he lived long enough to see what lay beyond the Walls.

He struggled with his guilt over Jean every time they worked together as a squad. He tried to be useful, but also wanted Jean to figure things out for himself. He had to remove himself from Jean's life. It was the only way he could think to reciprocate. Jean deserved to be happy. Armin could never give him that.

Besides, Jean had Marco. He wasn't stupid. He'd seen them together and knew what was going on. Even after he figured it out, it still hurt worse than he expected when he caught them kissing. He hadn't said a word, just pretended like he wasn't there and vanished without them knowing he'd seen anything.

He wanted to go to Jean and tell him what he thought, but it wouldn't have been fair. So he kept everything to himself and contemplated his own mortality more than was necessary.


	7. Chapter 7

_This one takes place the night after the mass funeral… Which is still before graduation, but after the battle of Trost._

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He was alone in the dorm. It was dark. He was only in his nightshirt. He felt exposed and vulnerable. Everyone he'd shared this room with was gone… Four of them were dead and Eren was locked up somewhere.

Thomas Wagner.

Mina Carolina.

Mylius Zeramuski.

Nac Tius.

They were all dead, and he'd watched them be eaten. He'd been unable to move, unable to even blink.

And then Eren had pulled him out of the Titan's mouth and was devoured because of it. Of course, he was alive now, but he hadn't known that then.

And stupid Jean…

He tightened his arms around his legs and pressed his face into his knees. He couldn't cry anymore.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them die again. Then it changed and flashed to the piles of bodies everywhere he looked. The "Mopping Up" operation was its nickname. He hated it.

The door behind him opened and closed, but he pretended like he hadn't heard it. Everyone was seeking a quiet place to mourn. More than likely, whoever it was would notice him and slip right back out again without a word.

He heard the footsteps, but his thoughts were too jumbled up to care much about it. He couldn't help but wish that it was Mina and Nac, joking around like usual. Or Thomas. Or Mylius.

Or Eren.

He cursed himself again and again for not being able to do anything to save them.

A shout started at the back of his throat when he felt the bed shift, but then arms were wrapped around him from behind and he choked on his breath. He knew those arms, this smell.

"Jean." Armin sighed heavily. He felt Jean moving behind him, curling around him like he did so long ago.

Jean didn't say anything for a long time. Armin finally relaxed into his arms and held onto him. There were no words. They'd both just gone through entirely too much for words to correctly express.

"Why?" It was all Armin could ask. He couldn't help but wonder why Jean was here. Why now? Why him? Why not Marco?

Jean understood the question. "Marco's dead."

"Oh." Armin couldn't say anything else. So many people had died…

Jean was only sitting with him because he didn't have Marco anymore.

He felt his gut wrench and his heart felt as if it had been ripped out of his chest. He wanted to pull away from Jean and yell at him. He wanted to tell Jean to go away and never talk to him again. But he couldn't.

He needed Jean to hold him right now. If Jean wasn't there, he felt certain he'd break into pieces. How could he be so selfish?

How was it fair for him to hate a dead person?

-0-0-0-

Saying the words had hurt far more than he expected them to. He could only bury his face into Armin's shoulder. He wanted to cry, but he couldn't get the tears to come.

He was almost positive that Armin didn't want him there, but then Armin relaxed against him and he didn't feel quite so guilty. It wasn't fair for him to run to Armin now, not after just losing Marco.

But no matter what there was between him and Marco, Armin had always been the one he thought about the most. He still felt guilty when he thought about kissing him. It wasn't fair to Armin... He'd ruined everything between them when he'd done that.

Marco had been his distraction, his way to try and forget. It never really worked, though. He always found himself thinking about Armin... What would Armin have felt like instead of Marco? What would Armin have said or done instead?

He still wanted to know. He wanted to forget Marco now. He was dead and gone. Nothing could bring him back. He couldn't run to Marco when he needed a distraction anymore. He had to deal with things now. He couldn't just shove everything away and pretend like it hadn't happened.

His grip tightened around Armin. He knew what Armin had seen, what he'd been through. Even though he'd been so torn up about it at first, when it came time for action, Armin had shoved it all to the side. Armin had found Mikasa again. Armin had come up with the plan to kill the Titans in the supply room at headquarters. If not for Armin, they'd have all died.

Even after they were out of Trost and safe and Eren had gone to put that boulder in front of the hole, Armin had rushed out there to help when he saw the yellow flare. Whatever Armin had done to Eren to get him to focus, it had worked.

Armin was too damn smart. Jean could never have come up with anything like Armin had. Jean had made the call to use deaths to his own selfish advantage and escape the Titans that were surrounding them while they fought to get to HQ.

Marco had called Jean a leader, but that wasn't true. He didn't know how to do do anything without Armin's help. He needed Armin now more than ever, but he didn't know how to tell him that.

So they sat in silence.

Jean kept trying to find the words to apologize to Armin, but he never could figure out exactly what to say. A simple apology would never be enough. He felt like he needed to explain everything to him. He felt so guilty for kissing him... He'd tried to bury that guilt by turning to Marco, but that had probably just hurt Armin even more.

How could he make Armin understand? What could he do to show Armin that he needed him? He thought about telling him about his decision to join the Survey Corps, but thought better of it. Now wasn't the time for crap like that.

The future didn't exist right now. It was only the present that really mattered. He was holding Armin, and he felt guilty for it because he felt better. He didn't hurt so much now that his arms were wrapped around him. That wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Armin and it wasn't fair to Marco.

But Marco was dead.

-0-0-0-

Armin sat up. He tugged Jean's arms away to face him. He didn't know what to say or how to help him. He hated that he wanted to.

Jean had felt guilty after they kissed. And Armin had felt terrible because of Jean's guilt. But now... Now there was no guilt. Nothing else really mattered right now. Tomorrow he would go back to his duties until it was time for the ceremony. After that, he'd never see Jean again. Whatever happened right now was all that was important.

Jean was grieving for Marco, though, and Armin couldn't let himself forget that. He brought his hands up and placed them on Jean's shoulders.

"Armin..."

He shook his head. "Don't, Jean. Don't say anything. Just... listen for a minute." Jean nodded once while Armin took a deep breath to steady himself. "I... I know... _Knew_ about you and Marco. I'm sorry that he's dead. I wish... there was something I could do or say... but there isn't. You have to keep moving forward, though."

It was all he could manage. Jean just nodded at him, his expression torn between guilt and sadness. He brought Jean close in a final hug.

"I..." Jean muttered into Armin's chest. Armin just shook his head and pulled away from him again.

"You need to go, Jean."

-0-0-0-

So Armin knew after all. When he thought about it, it really wasn't that surprising that Armin had figured it out. After all, Armin was smart and he and Marco hadn't exactly done a great job of keeping themselves a secret.

Armin didn't give him the chance to explain anything. He frowned when Armin told him to leave, but nodded all the same. Armin couldn't distract him like Marco could. That much was obvious. But he didn't hate him for it. He just felt guilty for trying to go to Armin in the first place. He hadn't considered how it would hurt him.

He left the room and made his way to his own dorm. He was glad it was empty for now. He wasn't sure what he looked like, but he felt like a wreck.

Marco was gone, but Armin had never really been his to lose in the first place. He wasn't sure which hurt worse. Maybe one day he could tell Armin everything, but today was not that day. He doubted he would get the chance anytime soon. For now, he focused on Marco.

Marco deserved that much, at least.


	8. Chapter 8

_Please read through chapter 15 of the original With You before continuing…_

* * *

_This takes place after the fight with Annie in the Titan Forest, but BEFORE she is captured in Stohess. _

_(1)_

* * *

He almost thought he'd never been more happy to see his own bed, but memories from a time that seemed like a hundred years ago made him realize that this moment came in second to that time he, Armin, and Annie had been stuck in the stupid cave for a week. He fell face first onto his perfectly made bed and groaned. The day's events had worn him down. For that moment, he would have been content to never move again. But a shower was calling his name.

He dug out a clean uniform from the tiny chest he called his own. Armed with everything he was going to need, he went barefoot over the worn wood floors to the bathroom at the end of the hall. A castle it might be, but only a few of the rooms had working bathrooms. The rest were forced to share much larger shower rooms. At least walls and curtains had been thrown up for a small sense of privacy.

There were others in there already, but he ignored them. No one felt much like talking in the first place, and he knew he wouldn't be anyone's first choice for a conversation anyway. He chose one of the empty stalls and began to strip.

He could smell the soap from the others. He knew Sasha's because it was so much like his own sandalwood-scented concoction his mother had given him. He'd known Marco's, too. His has smelled like the bark and sap from the old maple tree it was made from.

For his birthday, his mother would send large baskets of stuff. There were a select few goodies made just for him, but the rest he always gave away. That was the point, though. She was always pushing him to share and be nice to others. He'd never had many friends - even before joining the cadets. It was thanks to those baskets that people had begun to speak to him a little more and actually treat him like another human being. He knew it was his own fault people didn't really like him, but he didn't care much. He was too honest for them.

Last year, there'd been several bars of soap all with different scents. One of his aunts made and sold the soap up in Ermich. He'd grabbed the sandalwood for himself and let the others have whatever they wanted. Sasha had found one of his that he missed. Marco had chosen his second-favorite. He felt the familiar sensation of a cold hand gripping his heart in his chest. It had started the night after the funeral, after he'd left Armin's room. He had to keep moving forward. Armin had told him that...

Just before he began to scrub down, he smelled the only other soap he remembered with perfect clarity. It was a soft mixture of honey and almond, sweet, but not overpowering. The shower next to his had been running when he came in. It must have been Armin...

He cursed to himself and grabbed the soap, scrubbing the dirt and sweat away with more force than was necessary. His hair was next, and he realized that it was too long again. His undercut was shaggy and uneven from where he'd tried to do it himself.

Part of him wanted to go and talk to Armin again. The rest of him thought it was a bad idea.

The last time he'd gone to Armin, he'd been all messed up by Marco's death. It hadn't been fair to Armin or to Marco for him to run to Armin. He still felt guilty for it. He was less guilty about going to Armin, though, and more guilty that he'd felt so much better curled up with him.

He couldn't stop the onslaught of memory from the battle of Trost. He'd used others' deaths for his own advantage. He'd forgotten all about it, too, after he found Marco. It had taken more than a week for him to remember it, and then he'd become depressed all over again. He'd accepted those deaths much easier and faster than he had Marco's, though. Did that make him a terrible person?

And then Mikasa, Connie, and Sasha came with Titan Eren and saved them all from being devoured. It had been Armin's idea to lure Titan Eren over to HQ, killing Titans as he went. He'd said Mikasa's name because he thought she was dead - he'd seen her fall. He'd done nothing about it, either. He'd been so focused on saving himself and the others first and foremost. They'd been fighting the Titans as they went, and she didn't have any gas left. For all of her skills, she'd have been useless without her gear. He'd known that and made that choice. It was lucky that Armin had found her.

He remembered looking at Armin after that and shouting something about him being alive. Of course, most people probably thought he was probably talking about Mikasa, but he'd be damned if he wasn't shocked to see Armin. Armin had gone after Mikasa, but he'd only learned that later from a passing comment by someone else.

He'd been so angry! Why hadn't he _noticed_? Armin had done what he didn't and had gone after Mikasa. He'd wanted to run to Connie and thank him over and over for helping to keep the both of them alive. Somehow, he'd curbed that desire and managed to focus on getting into the supply room. Armin had come up with that plan.

Armin.

Armin.

_Armin_!

He muttered dark curses to himself over and over as he finished his shower and dressed again. His clothes stuck to him awkwardly because he wasn't completely dry, but he just gathered his things and bolted straight back to his room. What was it about him? He always felt either guilty or pissed off when he was near him. Why?

It wasn't like that before… He'd just fucked everything up after that stupid kiss. The times they'd spoken since then were few and far between. They were distant with each other, but Jean knew that was his fault. He'd ruined everything that was once between them. How could he make up for that?

Jean grunted as he sank into his bed. Tomorrow they were free to do as they liked. He'd heard some of the senior members talking about going home or seeing family and friends. He knew he should go see his mother. She was probably worried about him...

He didn't have it in him to hate her right now. She'd always been pushy and annoying, but he hadn't seen her since right after the ordeal in Trost. He'd been worried that she hadn't made it out in time, so he'd rushed to find her as quickly as he could. Being a cadet had sped that process along for him, thankfully. He hadn't spent much time in the cramped and over-populated inn, but he'd seen her and that was enough. She was in Ermich for now, staying with her sister until Trost was cleaned up a little more. Somehow their house had been spared from any destruction. It was strange, but he found he missed her.

He curled up with his pillow on his side. Maybe... Maybe she could help him come up with something to say to Armin... He couldn't tell her everything, of course, and he probably wouldn't mention anything more than that he'd done something to drive away the one friend he had, but she'd always known when he was upset about something. She could help. Maybe.

-0-0-0-

He was tired, but forced himself to get up and get dressed. He chose his street clothes for this trip. He didn't feel quite right about going in uniform. Someone might stop him to try and harass him about the recent mission, and he wasn't up for any sort of discipline that might come from picking a fight.

He did take his horse, though. She looked at him with sleepy, lazy eyes while he saddled her. he wanted to hate her for abandoning him after the fight with Annie, but if she hadn't gone to Krista, they wouldn't have had the extra horse. He just patted her mane instead and climbed into the saddle before setting out.

The trip was long, so it gave him plenty of time to consider what he'd do and say. He couldn't mention Armin directly. That wouldn't do him any good. But he could talk about his "friend", at least. He thought about Marco again... He'd introduced Marco as his friend, too. Maybe she would think he was talking about him... That thought pained him, though, so maybe he _would_ say that it was Armin. He couldn't seem to remember if he'd ever mentioned Armin to her before.

The streets were still packed with people, and despite the usual splendor of the interior, he couldn't help but feel that it seemed more like Trost. He rode through the crowd above them all and did not dismount until he was just a block from his aunt's house. Two of her six boys were running around on the street with a ball. They were dirty and covered in scabs and fresh scratches. He grinned at them as they waved.

"Jean!" He knew his mother's expression before he even turned to face her. She had half-shed tears in her eyes as she clamored down the steps and ran to hug him. For once, he let her. Damn anyone who was watching. After the shit he'd just lived through, he deserved to hug his own mother.

"Can we go inside?" He was trying his best to be gentle with her. She let him go and used the corner of her apron to dry her eyes. He hobbled his horse to a nearby post and shouted for the boys to take her to the stables. His aunt must have known he was here. She already had a glass of water for him and her tea set was on the kitchen table. Jean gave her a quick hug as well and settled himself across mother.

"I was so worried about you..." She was pouring his tea and adding just the right amount of sugar. "All we heard was that a lot of people didn't return. No one would tell me if you were alive or not."

Jean grimaced. "We lost twenty or so people. A final tally still hasn't been made."

"I'm so sorry, Jeanbo..." He couldn't bring himself to look at her for a moment. "I'm so glad you came to see me."

He gave her the best attempt at a smile that he could manage. She smiled back and pushed his tea to him. He drank a few sips. His aunt made herself scarce without him having to ask her to do so. He needed a moment with his mother...

"Tell me what's wrong."

He sighed bitterly. _Everything_ was wrong! But he didn't want to go through everything he'd seen and done. He was half certain he wasn't supposed to talk about that stuff anyway. The cup chinked against the matching saucer as he sat it down.

"A lot has happened." It was all he could think of to say. How was he supposed to just launch into the conversation with a tale about how he'd ruined his friendship with the only person he had left to call a friend by kissing him and then going straight to him after his... _other_ friend's death?

"You're growing up." He looked up at her, a little shocked. "When you were little, you were always such a handful. Honest to a fault and not afraid to tell anyone exactly what was on your mind. You've grown out of some of that, and I'm proud of you. I know that you've probably seen and done some terrible things... First with Trost and then with this expedition outside... I won't lie, Jean, I was scared to death when you told me you were joining the Survey Corps. Then I realized that there had to be a reason why; it had to be important to you."

He just gaped at her. How could she know all of that? He'd kept his reasons for joining the Survey Corps to himself- partly because he didn't really know. How could she tell that he wasn't still throwing out attitude and rubbing everyone the wrong way with his opinions? He'd always known he was doing it, he'd just never cared. Still didn't, when he thought about it. He was just honest, and if people couldn't handle the truth, then he didn't want anything to do with them.

"I'm not asking you to tell me everything. I know you can't. You're still so young, though. I just want you to try to be happy when you can. Those times won't come often now that you're in the Survey Corps. Whatever is bothering regarding something that isn't a part of your duties as a soldier, you can talk to me about."

He hated that she was right, but he just looked down into his tea. "I... sort of... messed everything up with a friend of mine..."

She patted his hand. "If it's Marco, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

He grimaced again and she pulled her hand away. "Marco's dead."

"Oh Jeanbo..."

He couldn't look at her. "I'm... dealing with it. I found him... after the Titans were gone... But he's not..."

"Did something happen between you and this other friend?"

He was grateful that she'd dropped the subject of Marco. He couldn't handle talking about him. Not yet. Saying he was dead and talking about how he'd found him was one thing, but talking about how he felt was something else entirely. He couldn't put it into words anyway.

"That's a stupid question." He looked up at her, but she just gave him a wry smile.

"It is, isn't it?" She stood and moved around in the kitchen, gathering ingredients. He joined her, searching for the other things she needed. This was an old ritual for them. He'd never thought about it before, but it was comforting.

"I think I disappointed him more than anything." Jean cracked four eggs into a bowl and began to beat them. His mother was sifting the flour with salt at a different counter.

"You can't make everyone happy, Jean. You have to do what makes _you_ happy. You're obviously concerned about him, but is it because you disappointed him or because you disappointed yourself?"

He didn't answer for a long moment, just dumped the sugar into the eggs and began to stir. Maybe he was disappointed in himself. It wasn't fair for him to want both Marco and Armin, but he had. "Yeah... um... probably disappointed in myself."

"What can you do to change that?"

They changed places and he grabbed some chocolate and grabbed a pot. He focused on melting the chocolate for a while. "I don't know."

"Have you tried talking to this friend?" He glanced over at her back as she worked the flour and buttermilk together. "Not about anything, but about what's bothering you. You've never had a problem with telling people what you think before."

"Maybe..." He looked down at the pot as he stirred. "Um... What I think might just make everything worse."

"If that's the case, then maybe he isn't the friend you think he is." He wanted to throw the spoon at her, but resisted. He wasn't four anymore. "True friends listen and accept you for who you are. What you think is important to those who really care about you."

"Yeah..." He'd heard this before, back when he'd played with a little girl down the street. She was his first crush. When he'd told her, she just brushed him off. He'd gone straight home. After that, he still played with her but he was never as nice. He called her a crybaby and a wimp and all sorts of other mean things that were also true. Soon, she didn't talk to him anymore.

"Getting someone to really listen to you is hard. Making someone understand your intentions is even harder."

"Not with Armin." The words had escaped him before he realized it. He felt a flush creep up the back of his neck.

"Oh, he's the one that was in your squad, right?" She was looking at him over her shoulder when he glanced up, so he nodded. The chocolate had melted, so he brought it over to the rest of the mixture and poured it in. She had finished everything else, so he took the spoon and bowl and began to blend in the chocolate. "You said he was smart."

"Really smart." Jean sighed. "Maybe that's why it's hard to talk to him sometimes. No one else likes me much, though."

"I think that you just need to tell him what's on your mind. If he's as smart as you claim, then he will understand."

"I can't just start talking to him." He was arguing the details now, but she was right. "It would be weird..."

She laughed. "Then what would make it not weird?" He looked up as she finished greasing and flouring the last cake tin. "Talking to people about things that are important to you is always weird. It never feels like the right time and the words never seem to come out right. After you've made your point though, everything gets better."

Part of him wondered if she knew from experience. His father had never been an easy man to talk to. When he thought about it, a lot of his brash personality was similar to his father's. Rather than keeping eerily silent, though, he spoke his mind whenever he pleased. He didn't lie or try to hide anything. How had his mother ever broken through his father's iron-hard shield?

"So I just... start talking, right?" She nodded and he felt himself relax a little. They had a couple days before the MP's came for Eren. He'd get Armin alone and just tell him how guilty he felt. He'd tell Armin everything...

"I think it will all work out for you." They poured the cake batter into the pans and got them into the oven before starting on their dinner for the night. His aunt joined them and helped too, but Jean didn't have anything else that he wanted to talk to his mother about.

They all dined together in the kitchen. It was loud and annoying, but it got his mind off of what was coming. He embraced the chaos. After dinner, they shared most of the cake. The remainder wound up in a basket full of goodies his mother insisted he take with him. He made sure that Armin's honey-almond soap was hidden, and he gave the maple soap back for extra bars of the sandalwood for Sasha since she liked it so much.

"Thanks, Mom." Jean gave her one final hug before climbing into the saddle. The youngest of his aunt's boy handed him the reins.

"I love you, Jeanbo."

"Yeah, me too, Mom." She just smiled and watched as he left for headquarters.


	9. Chapter 9

_Continued from the last chapter…._

_(2)_

* * *

He was hiding in the stables. After finally getting a chance to speak with Commander Erwin about what he knew, there was nothing else that was important. He didn't want to see anyone or talk to anyone. His thoughts about Annie depressed him. How could she betray them like that?

Commander Erwin had told him not to discuss his discovery with anyone else. It was imperative that they kept this under wraps until the precise moment. He was sure that Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange probably knew by now. Anyone else wasn't important enough to know. No one else had to work on a plan to keep Eren out of the Military Police Brigade's clutches or focus on a way to expose Annie for who she really was.

He still wasn't absolutely positive, but the evidence against her was overwhelming. If he was wrong - and a part of him desperately hoped that he was - he would be ashamed, but he did not think he was too far from the truth. Annie had deceived them all.

Commander Erwin had informed him that he was going to be summoned tomorrow to further discuss the plans for exposing Annie and shielding Eren from the MPs. He wasn't sure what they could do yet; he hadn't thought it through. Commander Erwin may have been the type of person who could - and would - sacrifice anything for the security of all of humanity, but Armin wasn't so driven. He lacked the fortitude to make those sorts of decisions.

When he heard someone approaching, he ducked down behind the stall his horse was in. He didn't want any confrontations right now, no matter how innocent. Eren and Mikasa had made some attempts at communication, but he'd ignored them. He couldn't tell them about Annie, so it behooved him to avoid the both of them. He listened as the rider dismounted and began to remove the tack from his horse.

He peeked around his own horse, body brush still in his hand. It was Jean. He was hanging the saddle and had already removed the saddle pad. The bit and bridle came next. He left the halter on as he inspected the horse's shoes, then grabbed the curry brush. Armin watched in silence, wishing Jean could just hurry up and leave. Then he remembered the body brush in his hand and knew Jean would need it. All of the senior members seemed to have their own, but the few that were left to the new recruits seemed to vanish on a regular basis.

Jean was combing out his horse's mane when he finally worked up the courage to step out of the stall. He looked as if he was concentrating hard on something, so he didn't notice Armin at first. It wasn't until Armin was beside him that he was noticed. Jean looked at him for a moment, but said nothing. Armin began to brush out the horse's short coat with the body brush as Jean fought with a few nasty tangles.

"Hey, Armin…" Armin looked over the back of Jean's horse at him as he spoke. "I… want to… um… apologize, I guess."

Armin frowned. "For what?"

"Being a jerk, I guess." Jean sat the comb aside and went to grab a bucket for the spigot just outside of the stables. When he returned, he propped it on the post his horse was tied to and let her drink. "I shouldn't have…"

"Please, Jean, you don't need to apologize for that." Armin couldn't meet his eyes. After what he'd just experienced with Annie, Jean's kiss hardly bruised him, much less lacerated him down to his core as it once had. He didn't deserve Jean's apology anyway.

"Yes, I do." Jean was irritated; both eyebrows joined in a deep furrow and his mouth was set in a hard frown. "Just… Just let me talk for a minute, okay? I don't know how to make any of this sound right, so I'm just gonna try until you get it."

Armin watched him in silence for a while as he struggled with discerning the precise words he wanted to use. When his horse was finished drinking, Armin set aside the body brush. Jean led her back outside to wander in the corral. He took her by the lead rope and Armin fell into step with him on the other side of his horse. She was gazing between them with big, tired brown eyes.

"Look… I… I fucked everything up when… Well, you know when. And then after Marco died… That wasn't fair of me. I shouldn't have gone to you. I… I know that probably was the meanest thing I could have done. I don't… I want…" Jean struggled for another moment before huffing out an angry sigh. "I just want us to be friends again, okay? I'm sorry that I didn't think about what I was doing."

"Jean…" Armin stared at the ground as they meandered around the corral in whatever direction they pleased. "You were never _not_ my friend." He didn't have anything else to say for the moment.

"But you were pissed off, right? I mean… I would have been." Jean was staring at him hard, with the same irritated expression from earlier. "So… um… Yeah. I'm sorry."

"I appreciate it." Armin still couldn't make himself look at Jean for more than a couple of seconds at the time. He wanted to tell Jean everything. He missed the times when Jean would embrace him; those moments kept him from shattering. Armin wanted to melt into the ground and never resurface because of that desire.

Eren was a Titan now, and possibly humanity's greatest ally. He'd spent all of his time with Squad Levi for so long, and then watched them all die at the Female Titan's - at Annie's - hand. Mikasa had never been more distant, but now that Squad Levi was gone, she was allowed to spend more time with Eren. Eren could call her annoying and overprotective and bossy all he wanted, but Armin knew he would have fallen to pieces if not for her presence. He felt the same way himself, but he didn't have anyone to turn to. He was unable to discuss his fears and concerns, to gripe about Annie's betrayal.

"I… I think you deserve to know everything." Armin glanced over at Jean for half of a second. Concern and distressed were etched into his features. He grumbled something under his breath that Armin didn't quite catch. "I don't… I don't know where to start…"

"You don't have to do this, Jean." Armin wanted to tell him that he didn't want him to. He didn't need to know everything. He had so much on his plate already…

"Yes, I do." The irritation was back in spades. Jean was leading the horse back to the stables, but there was no one else around. It was late. Almost everyone had retired for the night. When he looked over at the castle, he could see the light still burning in the room Commander Erwin used as an office. It was one of half of a dozen. He could guess that another was probably Squad Leader Hange. She could go days at the time without sleep. One of the lights flickered out.

"Can this wait?" Armin didn't want to ask, but he felt he had to. "Things are too hectic right now."

"I might not get a chance to say it again." Jean's mumbled words came as a shock, like a bucket of ice water dumped inside of his chest that trickled down into his stomach. He hadn't thought of that.

"I know you figured things out between me and Marco," Jean began. "But… I just… I felt so damn _guilty_. He distracted me from that, I guess. I don't even know if that makes any sense. Back then… you were going to the Survey Corps and I was going to the Military Police, so I didn't think I was being fair to you, you know? Whatever… anything…" Jean faltered for a moment. "Nothing was going to matter after that, right? That's… that's what I told myself. So…"

Armin felt his chest constrict into a tight knot. "You're right. Or, you were then, at least." He felt like he understood the situation better now. They were back inside the stables again.

"You and Annie were always hanging out, and you wouldn't talk to me… So I just… sort of gave up trying." Jean looked ashamed as he pulled away the halter from his horse. He went to a basket Armin hadn't noticed before that rested on a low bench by the door. A carrot in his hands, he broke off a piece for her. She snatched it away.

"I… I believed you felt guilty." Armin picked at a loose stitch on the sleeve of his jacket. "I didn't, but I thought you would be… happier if I left you alone."

"That's stupid." Jean was frowning hard. Armin almost smiled. Looking back now, maybe it was. "All I kept thinking was that I… I wanted to…" Jean faltered yet again and looked down at the ground, his neck turning bright pink. "I just…" His horse snatched away the remainder of the carrot, so he led her into the stall and closed the door. "Dammit! Why is this so hard?"

"I understand, Jean." Armin's voice refused to raise above a whisper. His throat felt clogged.

"It won't mean anything if I can't say it." Jean was gripping the halter with a white-knuckle grasp. "First it was those guys…" Armin tensed. He tried not to think about that as much as possible. "And then… you were in the hospital…" Jean's grip relaxed, but Armin found that he was unable to do so. "After that was the stupid cave. And then… you know…" Jean had shaky, rusty movements as he reached up to hang the halter with the rest of the tack for his horse. "With… With Marco, I didn't have to think about any of that stuff, but I did. I thought about it all the time. It's like… there you were, three meters away, and I still couldn't reach you. It _sucked_. So… Marco… Marco was my distraction. That's not fair to him either, but I guess that's how it really was."

He felt like his feet had grown roots and held him in place. All he wanted to do was run. He didn't want to hear this.

"I just… I fucked everything up." Jean finally looked over at him again, his frown still cemented into place. "Don't think it's easy for me to admit this kind of stuff. I turned to Marco because he was _there_, you know? He was… easy to be… friends with."

How could he make Jean stop talking? With every word, he felt more of himself crumble away. All of the walls he'd built for himself were demolished before him by nothing more than a few words.

"I just… I want…"

_Stop_! Armin wanted to scream. _Don't say it. Please!_

"I wanna be happy for whatever time I've got left. That's not too much to ask, right?"

_Yes._ Armin couldn't look at him, couldn't move. _You are asking for the impossible._ Jean was closer now. He wanted to escape from this cruelty. All he could manage was to turn around so that maybe - just maybe - Jean wouldn't see how badly he was hurting.

Jean's arms were around him, crossing over his chest and gripping his shoulders. He brought his hands up, not realizing that they were shaking until he could see them. He latched onto Jean's arms. Every ounce of willpower he possessed was spent fighting back tears. He didn't want to cry anymore.

"You… deserve… a little bit of happiness too, Armin."

He laughed, just a little. The sound was full of choked-back tears and anguish. "I wish that were true."

"It is." Jean dropped his arms and stepped back. Armin almost asked him to just leave him alone, but before the words could come to him, Jean was turning him around. He had one hand on either shoulder. That impossibly determined look had come back to Jean's face. Armin frowned. "Why wouldn't it be true? You know… sometimes I think you're too damn smart for your own good. Quit thinking so much about everything for once. We live and then we die. All the stuff in between is just what happens. You can spend all of your time worrying about it, or you can just take it as it comes."

Armin wondered where that had come from, but kept silent. Jean snatched him forward and captured him in a fierce hug. This one was more intimate. Armin couldn't stop his hands from reaching up to return the embrace. His forehead was pressed into Jean's chest as they stood together. Why wouldn't his body just do what he told it to?

The moment didn't last long, but it was enough to make Armin feel better. Jean gave him a tentative smile before he moved away. He followed Jean back to the castle, studying the contents of the basket as they walked. Just before they went inside, Jean dug through the basket for the same soap that he'd let everyone have last year. He shoved a few bars into his pockets and snatched up the large lump of what looked like some sort of cake. The next few bars he held out for Armin.

"You like this one, right?" Armin nodded once, recognizing the milky, yellow-brown color of the honey and almond soap he liked. "My aunt makes this stuff. Take all you want." Jean shoved four bars into his hands, then turned and headed inside. Armin followed as far as the dining hall, then retreated to his room.

No one would be sharing this room with him. Those in his squad were all deceased. He hadn't known them well or for very long, but a part of him felt he should be upset by their deaths. The emotions for them wouldn't come. His thoughts rotated between Jean and Annie faster than he could follow. Annie had betrayed him. Wouldn't Jean just do the same one day? Hadn't he, technically, already done so?

He put his thoughts aside as he added the new soap to his little chest of possessions. He didn't have much, but the book Jean had given him so long ago was now well-worn. He'd read it until he memorized the stories. It annoyed him that he placed so much value on the little things Jean had given him. He changed slowly into his night shirt, considering everything Jean had told him.

Was it possible for him to really be happy, too? He'd become so accustomed to misery that it was an old, familiar friend. How would he handle happiness? But none of that mattered. If he could be happy, he'd welcome the change.


	10. Chapter 10

_Remember that warning back in chapter one? This is one of those really relevant chapters._

_There is a clearly posted warning farther down… Please don't read beyond that point if you don't want to. It's really not necessary to the story._

_(yay smut!)_

_Please enjoy!_

* * *

_(3)_

* * *

It was late when he finally made it up to his room. Sasha and Connie had provided the evening's entertainment for a while as they fought over the chunk of chocolate cake Jean had brought. He'd decided he didn't really want it at the last minute. Armin had said something once about hating chocolate cake... He'd tossed it on the table and watched and laughed half-heartedly while Sasha and Connie devoured it.

There were only a dozen or so people still awake when he'd entered the dining hall. Of those dozen people, Sasha and Connie were the only two who'd been a part of the 104th. They remembered the baskets and jumped at the chance for some of his mother's homemade sweets. He made sure Sasha got the remaining bars of the sandalwood soap. He and Sasha joked at Connie's expense when he started smelling the others. Only two or three were girly scents, but Connie made a face whenever he'd pick one up. He finally chose the citrus ones. They were yellow-green, but smelled more of oranges than the lemons and limes that gave the soap it's color.

Moblit had chosen a green bar that smelled like sweetgrass. He asked if he could have the pink hibiscus ones for Hange and Jean told him he could take the rest if he wanted it. By that point, though, a couple of the others had come along to choose. Nanaba went with the yellow one. The only smell Jean ever got from it was sunshine- and even though he wasn't sure exactly how sunshine was supposed to smell. He couldn't remember the other girl's name, but she liked the lily-scented ones.

He changed in silence, trying not to wake Reiner and Bertolt. The other boy that shared the room was dead now. He didn't stay for long.

Armin's room was at the end of the hall. He knew it was empty now. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing, but if Armin wanted him to leave, all he had to do was say so. Everything he'd tried so hard to say had come out awkward, but he thought Armin understood. He hoped so, anyway.

The door opened with a tiny squeak. There was almost no light to see by, but he could make out a lump on the bed shoved against the wall in the far left corner. The lump rolled over and peered up at him from under the edge of the blanket.

"Jean?"

He felt guilty for waking Armin up. "Yeah... Just... wanted to see if you were... okay..." He hesitated by the door, unsure of what to do or say next.

"Not really." The muffled whisper drove a cold spike into his chest. "But it wasn't anything you did..."

"Sorry for waking you up." He turned, stepping back out into the hall.

"Wait…" Armin was sitting up, rubbing his eye with the sleeve of his nightshirt. He curled his legs up under the blanket and wrapped his arms around them. Jean didn't go back inside. "Can I talk to you about something?"

Jean frowned hard, but nodded. He stepped back inside the room and pulled the door closed behind him, blocking out the small amount of light from the hall. "What is it?"

"Annie." Armin pressed his face into the tops of his knees. Jean padded over the bare floor to the bed. Rather than sitting down at the foot of the bed or beside him like he figured Armin probably expected, he climbed up behind him and wrapped his arms around him as he'd done once so long ago. Armin slid forward so he had more room, but Jean kept a tight hold on him. It had been too long, and he figured Armin needed this as much as he did.

-0-0-0-

"What about Annie?" Jean's whisper tickled the side of his neck. Armin brought both of his hands up to clutch at Jean's arms.

"She's…" He paused, wondering just how much trouble he was going to get into for telling Jean about this. "She's the Female Titan."

Jean went rigid behind him, all of his muscles tightening. "Um… what?"

"It all makes sense…" Armin let his head fall back on Jean's shoulder. It was just too much for him to keep it all to himself. How could Commander Erwin really ask him to do that? He knew that he, Annie, and Jean had all been a part of the same squad for a while back in cadets. "She knew who she was looking for. She didn't kill me, and she didn't kill you…"

"That… doesn't… that doesn't prove anything."

Armin felt himself smile just a little. At least he wasn't the only one who was struggling with accepting Annie's betrayal. "She reacted to 'suicidal blockhead' remember? And… when she was looking down over me after she knocked me off of my horse… She looked like Annie."

Jean was silent for a long moment. "That's… That's still not enough to think…"

Armin sighed and brought his head forward again, hiding his face. "I think she killed the two captured Titans, too. During the inspection, she… she presented Marco's gear."

"How… how do you know that?" Jean's voice wasn't even a whisper, just a sort of breath muttered into the darkness.

Armin thought back to their previous conversation. Jean had been so intent on telling him everything, so maybe it was his turn for some honesty. "I used to help Marco with technical studies. We… we took it apart and put it back together again dozens of times so that he could learn every piece."

"He… he never told me that…"

Jean was on the verge of pulling away from him, but Armin selfishly held him in place. "I asked him not to."

"Why?"

"Because we would talk about you." Armin lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at Jean. His expression was exactly what he'd thought it would be. Hurt and betrayed, a little confused, and angry. "He was my friend, too. He never told me anything, really, but I always knew from the way he'd look when he started talking about something you'd done that day. I despised myself for it, but I looked forward to those times. You two were happy, and that was enough for me."

"That's so stupid." Jean snapped his head away, his eyebrows drawn together and his scowl firmly in place once more. "You're really dumb sometimes, you know that?"

Armin smiled, just a little. He couldn't argue with that. "Maybe, but I didn't want to get in the way. As far as I could tell, Marco never really knew anything about… well… us. So I just listened. He trusted me because he knew I wouldn't divulge his secrets." He studied his hands resting on Jean's arms.

"Uh… what… what all did he tell you?" Jean neck grew warm.

"I deduced most of it by reading between the lines," Armin answered with a small shrug. He couldn't quite bring himself to look back up at Jean. "Marco didn't have to say much. His face always gave him away."

He wondered if he'd made the wrong choice by telling Jean these things. He'd never intended to. Was Jean really so angry with him? But no, he couldn't be. If he was, he'd have left already. However, that did not necessarily mean that he hadn't just hurt him.

"You're face gives you away too." Jean lifted his hand and put one finger between Armin's eyebrows, pushing hard so that his head fell back against Jean's shoulder once more. "You always get that wrinkle over your nose when you overthink things. So stop, okay?"

That was easier said than done. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek for a moment. They weren't on the subject of Annie anymore, but he wasn't sure that this line of conversation was much of an improvement.

* * *

_**WARNING:**_

_**Mature content ahead.**_

_If you don't want to read it, please feel free to skip ahead to the next chapter. You won't miss anything important to the story. It's just smut._

* * *

Jean shifted behind him. The next thing he knew, Jean was grabbing his chin and turning his head over his shoulder again. The rest of his body had come around to Armin's side. All at once, Jean was kissing him hard and pressing his back to the wall.

Armin had just one thought before he gave himself over to physical attraction: _I am so selfish_.

His arms came up around Jean's back as he pulled him closer. One of his hands was pressed into Armin's shoulder, holding him in place. The other came up to his neck. Armin's fingers dug into Jean's shirt. Jean wasn't gentle as his mouth moved over his, but he didn't want him to be gentle. He was tired of everyone always trying to be gentle with him.

Jean's hand slid from his shoulder to his chest. The nightshirt was so thin, he could feel as Jean's fingers scraped over his nipple. He gasped just a little, not expecting his body's reaction to the sensation. Jean took full advantage of the moment, his tongue filling Armin's mouth.

He could feel his cheeks burning when Jean pulled away, his hand sliding down Armin's neck. His body tensed when Jean moved his head lower on the opposite side, his lips grazing over the sensitive skin. Jean's teeth scraped over his collar bone. He sucked lightly on the skin he'd nibbled on, eliciting a soft moan from Armin.

His back arched toward Jean as he brought up his hand and dug his fingers into Jean's hair. Jean's hands weren't still either. The one that was Armin's chest had moved lower, grasping at his waist for a moment. His other hand found Armin's untouched nipple and he squeezed very lightly. Another gasp burst from Armin's throat, this one a little more strangled and desperate.

Armin's hand in Jean's hair tightened and pulled up, bringing his face back up. There was no mistaking Jean's groan, yet it was full of surprise. He kissed Jean with everything he had, taking advantage of his open mouth. He was on the offensive now, his curiosity burning through him. His hand left Jean's hair, moving to his neck; and his other hand slid over Jean's chest. He mimicked all of Jean's previous actions, fingers teasing his nipples and his lips and teeth at Jean's neck. He couldn't explain the way the deeper, rougher sounds Jean made affected him, he just knew he liked it.

Armin was not as gentle as Jean had been. He pinched harder and bit down with more force, driven by the desire to hear those sounds from Jean once more. He almost didn't notice that Jean's hand had moved: he was grasping at his thigh, then moving higher underneath Armin's night shirt.

He froze, suddenly terrified. "Jean…" He flinched hard, his voice betraying him by coming out shaky and broken. He turned his head to the side, unable to look at him. Jean didn't stop. Armin's fingers grasped at the front of Jean's nightshirt; he couldn't focus anymore. Jean's other hand was suddenly at his neck again, using his forefinger and thumb to move his chin so that Armin was facing him once more. Jean kissed him hard and Armin gave himself over to all of the sensations flooding through him.

At some point, he began to mimic Jean's actions once more. He didn't realize that he was doing it until Jean was resting his head on Armin's shoulder, his breathing uneven. Every few seconds, something he'd do would get him another rough and low groan from Jean, sending white-hot tingles down his spine.

Everything began to blur for Armin, and his entire world was chaos for several long moments. Jean pulled his hands away, holding his wrists with just one of his hands. He pulled Armin back against his chest, holding his arms high above his head and forcing his neck to the side. His teeth sank into Armin's neck from behind, and Armin choked on a strangled shout, his body shaking.

Jean held him close as they fell back to the mattress, curled up on their sides. Armin was still trying to slow his heart rate. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Tomorrow was going to be another day of hell, but for tonight, he relaxed. He was still flustered, but he felt that sensation wasn't going to fade anytime soon. He accepted it and closed his eyes.

No one knew what tomorrow might bring.

* * *

_Soooo….._

_I hope you all don't hate me. _

_Just keep in mind that neither of them have had all that much experience with everything that's going on. It has to be a little awkward and it can't really go too fast too far. Stages, people! It has to move in stages! _

_I'm ashamed that it took me so long to work out that scene after the warning. I mean, damn… That took way longer than necessary. I was struggling so much with it though. I had to figure out just how far I wanted to take it and draw a line at some point. I was deliberately NOT descriptive. I can be, believe me. o.o;_

_Please let me know what you think, even if you hated it. _


	11. Chapter 11

_Please read through chapter 17 of the original With You before continuing!_

* * *

Ever since that night before their trip to Stohess, he and Jean had been given almost no time alone together. Even now, out here in the middle of nowhere, they weren't alone. The rest of Squad Levi was here too. The cabin was large, but with all eight of them, quarters were still cramped. The three girls shared a room so that Captain Levi had his own. Connie and Jean had a room and he and Eren were sharing. He wasn't one for objecting his placement, but all he wanted was another night with Jean…

They were now an elite squad. He was sure there were others that were more qualified for this assignment, but it had been handed to them. All they could do was accept it.

The boundaries between them all had shifted once more. Historia had drifted away from everyone. She spoke to Eren on the rare occasion, and sometimes Armin could get her to say a few words, but otherwise she was silent. Connie and Sasha were much closer now than they'd been before. Jean was still abrasive at times, but he could tell that he was making an effort to tone it down. They were laughing together again. It didn't last long, and it was always over something silly - like Sasha trying to steal a bit of food - but it was enough.

Hange's experiments with Eren weren't going well. He'd always known that it was far-fetched for Eren to be able to harden like Annie did. He'd never shown any signs of an ability like that before, but he supposed it was worth it to at least figure out Eren's limits. His control and strength diminished with each transformation, which explained why Eren's third Titan had attacked Mikasa back in Trost.

After yesterday, he'd been moved upstairs to the loft room, and Armin was left to himself. Eren still wasn't awake, but Mikasa wasn't hovering like before. There was no one here who would hurt him, after all. She was outside tonight with Connie, standing watch until the shift change in the middle of the night. Sasha and Jean were up after them.

The cabin did not have modern plumbing. If they bothered warming the water and hauling it to the tub, then they could have a hot bath, but that was usually the farthest thing from their minds. Instead, they'd rigged up a sort of shower from a spigot and scrubbed their way through icy-cold water. It was already autumn, and the nights were getting so much colder.

He was in his bed with the towel still over his head. The rest of him was bundled in a thick quilt. He had his book before him on the bed, and every now and again, he'd free one hand from the blanket to turn a page. Some of the pages were stained yellow from his fingers and the ink was faded, but he knew the words by heart.

When the door creaked open, he looked up in surprise. Everyone else had been in bed when he'd finished his shower. Jean gave him a half smile and closed the door softly behind him. Armin returned the smile, but watched in a little confusion as Jean hesitated.

"You're gonna get sick if you sit like that," Jean muttered. Armin was silent as he crossed the room. Before he could protest, Jean was rubbing the towel over his head to dry his hair. When he pulled the towel away, Armin felt his hair sticking up at odd angles. Jean smirked for a moment and messed up his hair a little more with his hand. Armin scowled, but laughed softly.

Jean pulled the book away and closed it before setting it down on the little dresser by the bed. Armin let him pull away the blanket and scooted forward for Jean to sit down behind him. The blanket was brought back up around his shoulders so that Jean could share it. Jean's arms wrapped around his chest and pulled him close. He relaxed, warmer already.

"Thanks."

Armin turned his head to look at Jean, but he was just staring at the wall. He found Jean's hand and gripped it tightly. "For what?"

"Not letting me get eaten." Jean grimaced just a little. He lifted his head and caught the bottom of Jean's jaw with and soft, quick kiss. Jean looked down at him, his eyebrows raised.

"I couldn't let you die..." He looked forward again, but his head fell back onto Jean's shoulder. "We've lost too many people as it is. You attacked Annie when she was about to kill me. I was... returning the favor."

Jean's arms tightened around him. He allowed himself a small smile. This was familiar. It was comforting. A part of him wished that Jean would never let him go. He'd accepted his selfishness where Jean was concerned. He wouldn't let anyone take that away from him.

"I feel shitty," Jean grumbled. Armin turned his head to look up at him again. Jean did not meet his gaze. "I don't... I don't want you to hate me for what I did..."

Armin felt the laugh building in his chest. He tried to stop it, but couldn't. The first couple of chuckles burst from his mouth before he brought up his free hand under the blanket to cover his mouth and stifle the sound. He could feel Jean squirming behind him.

When he was able to stop laughing, he took a deep breath. "I thought it was obvious..."

"Thought _what_ was obvious?" Jean muttered, his irritation coming out in his tone.

"I didn't exactly tell you to stop..." He could feel his cheeks burning as he thought about the last night they'd shared. He lifted his free hand and brought it out from under the blanket. He wasn't accustomed to being so bold, but he figured everyone deserved to be selfish about something. He turned his head to look up at Jean as his hand grasped the back of Jean's head and pulled him down to meet his lips.

The kiss wasn't long, but Armin enjoyed it for what it was. Jean rested his forehead on Armin's shoulder. They were still for a long time, and silent. Their grief had come and gone while they were alone. Now that they were together once more, there was nothing left but a sort of hollow peace. Armin was content to share it with Jean, though, for however long it would last. There would always be more death, more pain, more grief.

"Aren't you the one who told me to stop thinking so much?" Armin teased. "I believe you said something like 'you can spend all your time worrying or you can just take it as it comes'." Jean sighed. "Follow your own advice, Jean."

"I didn't realize how hard that was," he grumbled.

Armin let himself chuckle just a little. "You called me selfish once. I'd never thought of myself that way before that moment. Lately, I've become even more selfish. I don't believe that's necessarily a bad thing."

"That was a long time ago." Jean was fidgeting again. He pulled his head away from Armin's shoulder. He imagined that Jean might have tried to take his hands back if he hadn't been holding them so tightly. "I didn't even mean it…"

"But you were right," Armin countered. "I am incredibly selfish. I only helped Marco so that I could listen to him talk about you. I was going to stay behind when we only had the one horse because I couldn't stand it if you died and I lived. I… I was so focused on you when we were fighting Bertolt and Reiner…"

Jean's arms tightened around him. He pulled away, though. Jean was staring at him with his eyebrows furrowed, but Armin ignored the look as he turned around, the blanket falling from his shoulders. He wound up on his knees in front of Jean before he threw both of his arms around him and kissed him hard. When he pulled away, he brought his arms down to the front of Jean's shirt and grasped at it, burying his face on Jean's shoulder.

"Armin… What…?"

"I'm just like Mikasa now," Armin whispered. "I only have the capability to care for a select few people. Everyone and everything else be damned."

One of Jean's arms encircled his back while his other hand went to Armin's hair. They sat like that for a long time. Eventually, though, Armin began to shiver again. Jean moved him over to his side and grabbed the blanket before tossing it over the both of them. He pulled Armin down to the bed and wrapped his arms around him, just holding him close.

"Everyone and everything else be damned." Jean muttered the words just as he was drifting off to sleep. He smiled, just a little.


	12. Chapter 12

_Please read through chapter 18 of With You before continuing with this. _

_It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment for when this one takes place, but it's still technically in Chapter 54: Location of the Counterattack. One of the very last pages of the chapter has an image of Squad Levi sitting at a table while Levi and Hange are down in the basement area of the 'abandoned checkpoint' (as Hange refers to it). This chapter takes place before that image. _

_Basically, it was pretty bright and sunny during the afternoon when Levi makes the deal with Dimo Reeves. Next thing it shows, though, is that it's storming pretty bad and that's when they capture Sannes and Ralf (the interior MP guys). This chapter is between those two times!_

_Sorry for any confusion, but it's kinda important._

_Another multi-parter… (1)_

* * *

The very moment they were dismissed, Armin bolted for the stairs. The old check-point that served their temporary purpose as a rendezvous location didn't look like much from the muddy road, but it was outfitted with holding cells in the basement. To his knowledge, the Military Police had once controlled the building and used it to track down poachers in the woods surrounding them. It had been empty for years, though, which meant none of the luxuries the Military Police Brigade now enjoyed - like modern plumbing.

He got rid of the stupid skirt and girly boots the instant he'd locked himself in the washroom. The pot-bellied stove in the far corner was still warm and glowing with embers, so it didn't take long for him to stoke the fire back up. He took his time boiling bucket after bucket of water to fill the enormous claw-foot tub in the center of the room.

It didn't take him as long as he'd expected, but he still expected the water to have lost some of its warmth. He was never more glad to be proven wrong. The water nearly scalded him as he sank into it, so he just sat for a while.

There was only one small part of him that was glad that Historia hadn't had to suffer that pervert's grasping hands. The rest of him hated that he'd had to do it instead. He'd fought back at first, but the ropes dug into his skin and he ended up hurting himself even more. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. He knew that. He _remembered_.

He sank further into the water, curling his arms around his legs as he pulled them to his chest. The man's voice kept returning to him, and the way he'd been panting all over him. He squeezed his eyes closed. He'd wanted to hear his voice. _Why_? The bastards that had attacked him so long ago had mocked him and joked at his expense whenever he'd scream or plead with them to stop. He'd stopped soon after though. It had taken everything in him not to utter a sound earlier today, and yet he'd even failed at that. One tiny whimper when that bastard had tightened his hold and all of his resolve had crumbled.

He'd look to Jean. He'd _known_ that Jean wouldn't have been able to do anything… but he'd still hoped. It was difficult to think logically about the situation, even in hindsight. Everything in him had wanted Jean to do or say _something_. But he hadn't.

Frustrated with himself, Armin grabbed his soap. He scrubbed at his skin far harder than was necessary. Why couldn't there be a way for him to do the same to his memory? The familiar hate and contempt for the world returned.

Pragmatism had always been his strong suit. It was his way of dealing with the things that no one else wanted to consider. With logic and reasoning, he'd managed to find solutions to the most pressing issues he and those around him were dealing with at any given moment. Yet, he found he had no way to handle his own fears and insecurities using the same methods.

He sank down into the water once more, submerging himself this time. When he couldn't hold his breath any longer, he lifted his head. The hot water and steam had helped clear his mind.

He couldn't be mad at Jean, no matter how much he wanted to be. All he could think of was going straight to him and curling up beside him and never letting go of him again. It wasn't logical, and he could think of no real reason why the desire had struck him; he just wanted to.

There was no telling how long he'd been up here, but he knew that others probably wanted to use the tub as well, so he climbed out. He pulled away the stopper and dried himself off as the water sloshed noisily down the pipes. As he dressed, he thought about his conversation with Jean from just a few nights ago.

_Everyone and everything else be damned._

He'd said it, and he'd meant it to. He hoped he wouldn't have to eat those words after tonight. The thought that had just occurred to him might not seem sane to anyone else, but something in him was convinced that he was following the right course of action. It was instinct, he supposed. He usually doubted everything, even with this feeling of total certainty, but not now. He didn't have time for doubt now.

He gathered up the clothes he'd worn earlier and tossed everything but the boots into the fire. He watched the material catch and burn for a moment, then stalked out of the room with bare feet. He was supposed to share one of the rooms upstairs with Eren, Jean, and Connie, but that wasn't where he went. Instead, he headed for the tiny kitchen downstairs.

He hadn't had anything to eat since the previous night. His anxiety this morning had kept him from accepting the bowl of plain oatmeal Sasha offered. Having forced all other thoughts from his mind, he focused all of his attention on his newly-made plans.

_Everyone and everything else be damned!_

After nibbling at some bread and a small chunk of cheese, he found something he never expected: solid chocolate. He had never had much of a sweet tooth, even when he was little, and while chocolate in most other forms had been ruined for him, he still enjoyed a few bites of a chocolate bar every so often.

He felt like Sasha as he broke off two smaller squares and replaced the rest. No one had come in, and he hadn't seen anyone on his way to the kitchen, so he settled himself by the hearth while he nibbled at the first small piece of chocolate.

The way he saw it, he had two choices. He could let that pervert get to him, or he could go ahead and get over it. It felt coldly ironic to think of the situation so long ago, but he'd had worse. It had shaken him to the core when that man was feeling him up earlier, but part of that included being tied to a chair. He brushed over the marks on his wrist from where the ropes had rubbed his skin raw.

_Everyone and everything else be damned…_

It was easy to say and hard to stick to. He finished off the first square of chocolate. The way his stomach had twisted into a fierce knot irritated him. He thought of what he really wanted to do once more and frowned. Two conflicting impulses kept him seated.

He felt himself trying to withdraw from everything. It was easier to hide himself away. He hated thinking about everything that he'd been forced to deal with. The thoughts wouldn't stop coming though.

Could his stupid little plan work? Even if the results were only temporary, he would be satisfied. But what if everything backfired on him?

_Jean…_

He finished off the last bit of chocolate and took a deep breath.

_Everyone and everything else be damned._


	13. Chapter 13

_Continued from the last chapter…._

_(2)_

* * *

He didn't understand how the idiots on the floor could already be asleep. To hear Eren tell it, he and Historia had fallen asleep earlier. While Armin was getting molested in Historia's place, they were off in fucking _dreamland_.

There was no way in hell he was going to be able to sleep, so he'd taken the first watch. The Captain had insisted on someone keeping an eye on Eren and Historia at all times, and while he still harbored some resentment toward them both, he couldn't just let them get kidnapped either. He was propped against the wall with the rifle in his hand. The outside world was calm and peaceful, though the sky was covered with a thick layer of clouds.

Maybe it would storm tomorrow. He let his head fall back against the wall with a thunk. The rain could wash away the tracks they'd left in the road at least. He wished the same could be said for his thoughts.

Armin's expression kept flashing in his mind. He hadn't been able to eat anything earlier because of a persistent nausea. All he could think of was when Armin had been… _attacked_ before. He grimaced and cursed himself softly. He was useless.

He'd tried to help the first time, when it was just fists that assaulted Armin, but that only made things worse for him. And then the second time… He remembered the conversation with Hannes after he'd woken up and found stitches in his shoulder. Hannes had told him that the one guy had died from internal bleeding. At first he'd been confused as to why that mattered to him at all in the first place, but then Mikasa had wandered in to find Hannes for Eren and she'd explained it in her own dry way. He'd killed that guy apparently, but he didn't remember doing it. He didn't remember _anything_ after getting Armin to the hospital.

Today he'd watched half of that shit happen right in front of him and he'd done nothing to stop it. He'd wanted to, but that hardly mattered now. All that really mattered was that he hadn't done anything. He just sat there while that pervert was feeling up Armin. He'd done _nothing_. He hated himself for it.

He had no way to make that up to Armin. He couldn't possibly do or say anything to make that situation okay. How could he even _look_ at Armin anymore? He realized just how painfully wrong he'd been back when he'd agonized over how being with Armin would mean protecting him.

No one had even seen Armin since they'd been dismissed. The others were exhausted, so they'd eaten a quick dinner and headed up for bed. Jean had wanted to stay behind and wait for Armin in the kitchen, but yet again, he'd done nothing. He'd just followed the others upstairs. Where was Armin now?

He thought he heard someone rustling around in the hall, so he stood. The door was cracked. All he had to do was cross the room and peer out. Before he reached the door, it opened just a hair wider. Sasha had her finger pressed to her lips for him to be quiet. Rolling his eyes, he returned to his seat. She crept into the room and went to Connie's place on the floor. He watched, only half interested, as she crouched beside him with something in her hand.

She looked over her shoulder at Jean with a shit-eating grin when she'd finished. He studied Connie's face. He had to bite down on his lip and clap one hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud and waking the others. Sasha had taken a black marker to Connie's face, adding a perfect curly black mustache to his upper lip. She'd also drawn him some large and extravagant sideburns to match.

Giggling under her breath, she darted back out into the hall without a word. He could faintly remember Connie playing some prank on her a few days ago, back when they were still in the cabin. He hadn't seen the final result, but he knew that at least part of it involved some homemade glue and the pile of chicken feathers they'd collected from the birds that became their dinner that night.

A part of him wanted to be as open about liking Armin as Sasha and Connie were about each other. It wasn't really obvious, but everyone just sort of _knew_. For all of the times he'd wished he could have a moment alone with Armin, Connie and Sasha usually just vanished together and no one ever questioned it. He'd give anything to be able to steal Armin away whenever he wanted.

It was pointless to consider now, though. He felt certain Armin probably despised him for not helping him earlier. Good intentions be damned - his _actions_ mattered more; he'd done nothing.

Now he had to figure out some way to possibly make that up to him. Stuck out here in the middle of nowhere and just waiting for the Interior MPs left him with few choices, though. He thought back to the silly little cooking competition he and Sasha had been in so long ago, and then of the cake he'd made with his mother. Cooking had always just been a way for him to talk to his mom. It was a hobby, but he could enjoy it. He really wasn't sure what kinds of foods Armin liked, though.

Maybe… Maybe he could ask Mikasa. He doubted Eren ever paid enough attention to notice. With a sigh, he relaxed against the wall once more. At least he had some inkling of a plan now. He could only hope it would be enough.

-0-0-0-

Armin left the kitchen and headed up the stairs. He took his time, being careful to stay as quiet as he could. For all he knew, no one was quite sure where he was. He certainly didn't know where any of them might be. The room that he, Jean, Eren, and Connie were sharing was at the very top.

He glimpsed Sasha as she ducked back into her room. She had an absurd grin on her face, but he didn't think that she'd seen him. He just smiled softly to himself. Connie was lucky to have someone like Sasha. While she wasn't quite the social butterfly that people had expected her to be back during their training days, ever since they'd been thrown into the same squad, she'd opened up. She smiled more and joked a lot with Connie.

How much had _he_ changed since then? There was no easy answer to that question, but he decided that it didn't matter. The way that others perceived him was of little concern. Captain Levi and Squad Leader Hange knew that he was smart enough to help them out, and that was all that really mattered. Maybe he wasn't as adept at killing Titans as the rest of them, but he could manage. He'd picked off two back when they were in the Titan Forest. He'd killed another as he was struggling to rescue Eren from Bertolt and Reiner. None of that really seemed to matter in the long run, though.

_Jean_ mattered. He thought back to the way Jean had spoken to him before they'd gone after Annie in Stohess. He'd been embarrassed and flustered the entire time. As he remembered, he blushed, thinking that Jean had been cute as he'd stood there stuttering out his apology and trying to make him feel better. This time, he wasn't going to be content with a half-muttered conversation.

This time, he wanted _more_.

Wherever this sudden boldness had come from, he liked it. He knew he couldn't push Jean to hard on the matter, but he was determined to get his point across at the very least. He didn't want Jean to blame himself for not acting earlier today. There was nothing Jean could have done if they didn't want to ruin the entire plan. He'd helped in the end, anyway, when he'd gagged that pervert. Armin hadn't been able to do it himself. He'd been too freaked out at the time.

All of that was gone now. He wanted to forget it all. When he'd been with jean that first time, he'd felt better about the situation with Annie. He wanted to feel better again.

_Everyone and everything else be damned._

Right? He hesitated when he reached the door. Could he really do this?


	14. Chapter 14

_Craen__, this part is all for you!_

_Continued from the last chapter…_

_(3)_

* * *

_Throwing a warning up, just because I think I should: _

_**Mature content after the break**._

* * *

Sasha was too giggly to sleep. She couldn't help but feel like she needed to do more for her revenge against Connie. All he had to do tomorrow was wash his face, and everything she'd done would fade away. She'd suffered with those stupid feathers for _days_. Every time she turned around, there were more. Stuck to her clothes or falling out of her hair or getting into her food… At one point, she was almost convinced that he'd been following her around and sticking more onto her when she wasn't paying attention.

A mustache and some side burns weren't nearly enough. She crossed her arms behind her head and sighed. What could she do? Nothing that would affect Eren, of course. Mikasa might kill her. Maybe she could get Jean in on the prank? He certainly hadn't stopped her earlier. But _what_ should she do?

There were all sorts of random things that had been left behind when the MPs abandoned this place years ago, but nothing really useful. Captain Levi had tasked her with going through most of it to search for anything that could help them. Other than some rope and a few cases of smoke flares, everything else was just junk.

When the idea hit her, she bolted upright. Mikasa opened her eyes long enough to glare at her, but she just rolled over and went back to sleep after Sasha's sheepish grin. Scrambling her way to the door and gaining her feet at last, she darted down the stairs. In one little storage closet, she'd found a bottle of blue dye. Regardless of what it had been used for before, she knew what she wanted to do with it now.

It took a long time to dig through all of the boxes to find that one small bottle. With no candle, she worked by the dying embers of the fire in the hearth of the kitchen across the hall. She had to keep quiet, too, or face Captain Levi's wrath along with Mikasa's. Those two were so _picky_ about their sleep…

Cheering silently to herself, she pulled the little white bottle from one of the very last boxes. There were stains around the top from where the last person to use it had made a mess. She sat the bottle on the floor just outside of the closet before replacing everything she'd dragged out to get to it. She didn't want to have to clean it up later, after all, and she'd finally started yawning.

After a little bit more searching, she found a pair of rubber gloves in the kitchen. She didn't want to get any of the dye on herself, after all. With slow movements to keep herself as quiet as possible, she began to creep back up the stairs. The door was still cracked a little, but when she peeked inside, Jean was nowhere to be seen. She thought nothing of it and continued on her mission.

Getting Connie's blanket away from him had been the hardest part. Then it was easy to open the bottle and drip careful lines all over his back. With any luck, he wouldn't notice at all until someone else pointed it out to him. His shirt would be ruined, but she'd just give him one of her own if he put up too much of a fuss about it. When she was finished, she sat back and grinned from ear to ear.

They'd started mocking the Military Police Brigade after the battle in Trost. It was their own private joke, a small way to make themselves feel better about choosing the Survey Corps instead. The horse's head she'd drawn covered most of his back. She wasn't a talented artist, but he'd understand. In some weird way, he always understood.

She screwed the cap back onto the bottle and pulled off the gloves before heading back down the stairs. Jean still had not returned, but she just dismissed it. Maybe he had to take a shit?

Dashing back down to the little closet, she hid the bottle of dye in another box and went to scrub off what had splashed on the rubber gloves before it dried. It wasn't a perfect job, but then, who would really care? Even if she was chewed out for getting dye on the gloves, it would be worth it to see Connie's expression.

She let herself yawn loudly for a moment. Captain Levi appeared at the top of the stairs that led down into the basement cells. He just stared at her for a moment, then grabbed one of the buckets close-by, and descended again. She shrugged him off and made her way back to the room she was sharing with Historia and Mikasa.

A strange sound made her pause before she reached the door. It was soft, but it was enough to make her curious. She didn't recognize it. They had to be careful out here, anyway; people were still after Eren and Historia. On full alert, she held as still as possible and closed her eyes.

She could hear Historia's soft snores from their room just down the hall. She could hear a faint scratching sound coming from below. The Captain had been working down there for most of the night with Squad Leader Hange. She didn't really know what they were doing, but she knew it was going to involve the Interior MPs they were planning to capture. Tomorrow would be the perfect day for it, too. Stormy and dark, with plenty of rain to wash away their tracks and low visibility for anyone trying to spy on them.

The sound came again. It almost sounded like someone was hurt. She moved up the stairs to the second landing. They'd blocked most of that area off since the windows had been broken out. It had been impossible to clean it up and keep it warm. One of the rooms had been somewhat useable, but Captain Levi refused. He and Squad Leader Hange were sharing the room across from the one she, Historia, and Mikasa were in.

The hair on the back of her neck began to prickle as she stepped off of the landing and into the short hall. Her footsteps were silent. Even the rustle of her clothes seemed muted. She didn't have a weapon if there was an intruder, but she could certainly shout loud enough to alert the others.

The door to the only decent room on this floor was at the far end of the hall. One of the floorboards creaked under her foot, so she froze again. She could hear a whisper, but not the words. Then another soft sound, a distinct groan this time, and she clenched her fists. There was no sense in raising the alarm until she was certain, so she continued on. Just a few more steps…

When she reached the door, she put her hand on the knob and waiting for a moment. There were sounds of soft rustling coming from the other side. Taking a steadying breath, she gripped the handle a little harder and turned it as she pushed.

Her eyes went wide.

Jean was on the floor with his back and head resting against the wall. Armin was straddling his waist. Jean's shirt was open.

There was light in the room thanks to a break in the storm clouds. The moon shone through the broken window. She could see the faint red marks that littered Jean's chest. Armin and Jean both were blushing. Jean's hands were wrapped around Armin's waist, gripping his ass. One of Armin's hands was still in Jean's hair, but the other was between them, hidden from her sight.

Suddenly, Sasha grinned.

"Try to be quiet, you too," she sang with a quick wink. "The Captain and Hange are still down in the basement working." With that, she spun on her heel and shut the door. She giggled to herself for a long moment, clutching at her sides as she doubled over.

* * *

_GoodEnoughTheOpenDoor hun, this part is just for you. :3_

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They listened as Sasha shuffled back down the hall, barely stifling her laughter. Armin looked back over at Jean with a small, sheepish smile. Jean was still in shock, his mouth open slightly. Armin took full advantage of the moment, gripping a handful of Jean's hair once more and pulling his head back before latching onto the front of his throat with his lips. Jean grunted and jerked slightly, his fingers digging into Armin's ass once more.

"Armin…" The word came out as a half strangled moan. One of his hands shifted up, his palm flat and fingers spread over the small of Armin's back as he pressed him closer.

"Do you want me to stop?" Armin lifted himself a little higher and moved to Jean's mouth, kissing him as he waited for an answer. Jean broke away for just a moment to shake his head.

"She knows now, so what's the point?" Armin felt his cheeks burn a little warmer as Jean brought the hand on his ass around Armin's waist. He gripped hard for just a moment. Armin crushed his lips to Jean's once more.

There was no hesitation for the moment, just rough kisses and hands. Jean's breath hitched in his throat when Armin shifted his fingers against him, adjusting his grip. The hand he had in Jean's hair relaxed at the same time and fell down to Jean's shoulder.

Jean's hands moved again, coming together at the buttons of Armin's shirt and working quickly to unfasten them. When it was open, his fingers skimmed over Armin's chest and stomach, then to his sides where Jean gripped his hips. He pushed Armin back slowly and bent his head, his lips grazing over Armin's neck, shoulders, and chest. He lifted Armin higher and shifted him backwards a little more.

"Jean?" Armin's question caught in his throat when Jean's tongue flicked over one of his nipples. He brought his lips around it and sucked very softly. Jean's hands found the waist of his pants and began to tug at the buttons. It took only a moment. The next thing he knew, Jean was moving lower, shifting away from Armin's grasp as he changed his position.

One of Armin's hands flew to his mouth, biting down on his fingertips; the other hand dug into Jean's shoulder. His spine straightened as he tried to lift his hips just a little higher. Jean had taken him into his mouth, his tongue moving against him in ways that Armin had never imagined. One of Jean's hands was at his ass again, pulling him forward and lifting him a little higher; the other pulled Armin's hand away from his mouth.

Armin couldn't stop the sound that erupted from his throat when Jean began to move in earnest. Jean did let go of Armin's hand, but only to replace Armin's fingers with his own. Armin's head fell back, Jean's palm sliding over his throat and his fingers along Armin's jawline. Armin latched onto Jean's arm as his head came forward once more. Jean pressed his fingers to Armin's lips.

Jean continued for a moment more, then moved again. He wrapped his arm under Armin's ass and lifted him higher, where his knees were almost off the floor. Armin gasped again, then bit down on Jean's fingers to stay quiet.

Armin's hand left Jean's arm, brushing lightly though his hair. He gave another tiny moan just as he felt Jean's throat close around him. Jean repeated the action again and again. Armin's head was spinning as he bent forward. Once more, and he lost himself, shaking slightly and trying his best not to cry out. He whimpered slightly as Jean pulled away.

Jean lowered him slowly and held him close as Armin sank forward into Jean's chest. He was breathing hard, his face pressed into Jean's shoulder. It took him a moment to gather himself, but when he did, he looked up. Jean was resting his head against the wall behind him with a small, amused smile on his face. Armin felt his cheeks burning once more.

"What… What about… you?" Armin was mildly frustrated for himself with his inability to speak at the moment, but the irritation vanished at Jean's light chuckle.

"Don't worry about me," he muttered. "I'm… good."

Armin just nodded and pressed his face back into Jean's shoulder. They sat like that until the first drops of rain began to hit the remaining panels of glass in the broken window across the room. Jean was gentle as he put both hands on Armin's shoulders and made him sit back. With fumbling fingers, they righted their clothes. Jean slid away and stood first, then held out his hand for Armin. He accepted and let Jean pull him to his feet, but he was a little surprised when Jean pulled him close and held him tight.

"Armin…" Jean sighed just a little before pressing his lips to the top of Armin's head. He tilted his head back to look up at Jean. He looked like he had something important to say, but also like he didn't know how to say it.

Armin smiled. "We're going to have to deal with a lot of teasing now."

Jean laughed once. "Yeah, probably." He bent down and kissed Armin's forehead. "Doesn't matter, though. Not… not to me, anyway."

"Me either." He stood on his toes to press a quick kiss to Jean's cheek. "We'd better go back up, though. It's Eren's turn to keep watch."

Armin made to step back, but Jean's arms tightened around him. "Do… do you… blame me for not doing anything earlier?"

He looked up at Jean with a sad smile. "No. You were tied up too, and even if you had done something, it would have ruined the entire mission." He rested his head against Jean's shoulder once more. "I told you earlier, I want to forget it. This… helps."

"Well," Jean sighed, "everyone and everything else be damned, right?"

Armin laughed. "Right."


	15. Chapter 15

_Continued from the last chapter…_

_(4)_

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_So I decided to throw in some comic relief. Everything has been waaaaay too serious for the majority of this fic. A huge and wonderful shoutout to __GoodEnoughTheOpenDoor__ for helping me out with this chapter. :D_

_Please enjoy!_

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"Go take care of the horses," Levi demanded. Eren and Historia had been expressly forbidden from going outside, and Mikasa refused to leave Eren's side, so that left Jean, Armin, Sasha, and Connie. It would really only take two of them, but the moment that Armin and Jean stood to head outside, Sasha and Connie bounced up to join them.

All day, Sasha and Connie had been giggling. The others assumed that it was due to the blue dye Sasha had used to decorate Connie's back with, but Jean and Armin blushed each time. Thankfully, no one else had caught on yet. They all grabbed their cloaks and headed out into the rain. Levi and Hange were too distracted by their plans for the rest of the evening to even notice that all four of them had vanished. Historia was so self-absorbed that she wasn't paying much attention to anyone, and Eren was too busy brooding. Mikasa might have noticed, but she said nothing.

They darted through the rain to the stables. The horses were peaceful. Each of them grabbed buckets and began to fill them with water.

"So…" Connie started trying to stifle his laughter, "Did you two have fun last night?" Armin flinched hard, his cheeks turning bright pink as some of the water slushed out of the bucket. Jean just scowled, but the back of his neck had turned red as well.

Sasha hunched over, biting her lip, but small bouts of laughter broke through. "It sure looked like they were to me." She laughed out loud and Connie joined her, water spilling everywhere as their hands shook. Sasha made a kissing face and noises at Connie, which only encouraged their laughter and made Jean and Armin both blush even more.

"Why do you two care?" Jean snapped. "We all know you two go at it like rabbits."

Rather than having the sobering effect that was hoped for, Connie and Sasha only laughed louder. "Because it's the two of _you_!" Connie balanced his bucket on the stall for his own horse to drink from. He eyed Jean. "I mean, it's unexpected. We all thought you were still in love with Mikasa."

Armin's cheeks turned an even brighter hue of pink and he turned away and entered a stall to switch out a water bucket. "Yeah, well, I'm not." Jean grabbed one of the sacks of grain and began pouring it into the trough of the first stall.

"Still, it seems strange that you'd fall for a guy like _Jean_," Sasha said, elbowing Armin with a wide grin.

"You got a problem with me?" Jean bit at her. Sasha gave him a nervous giggle in response to his glare.

"Armin's just so sweet all the time, and you're…" Sasha trailed off with another tiny chuckle.

"He's not really that much of a jerk anymore though, Sash," Connie said with a shrug. "I mean, Jean and Eren don't even get into fights anymore." Connie leaned forward to focus on Armin around Jean. "Did you make him all nice?" Armin shook his head, but remained silent.

"That's got to be it!" Sasha declared, her face brightening with another grin. "Armin's too sweet!"

Finally fed up, Jean snapped. He made a grab for Connie, but he dodged and ran to the other end of the stables. Connie just laughed as Jean went after him, chasing him into the barn. Sasha clutched the stable wall to hold herself up from her laughter,

"What's the matter, Jean? Afraid to admit that you like _sweet sauce_?" Sasha had fallen to her knees in a fit of laughter as she taunted Jean. Connie began to laugh too hard. He slipped in the mud as he ran back through the stables and landed on his face. Jean tripped over him, slamming up against another stable.

Armin peered down at him from the other side and gave him a quick, shy smile before hiding behind the wall again. With a little chuckle of his own, Armin added fuel to the fire. "Is that true, Jean?"

Jean's entire face and neck were red. He stooped and grabbed a handful of mud and threw it at Connie, nailing him square in the back. Sasha retaliated with her own fistful of mud, and hit the center of Jean's chest.

"You shouldn't be so embarrassed!" Sasha taunted again. "There's nothing wrong with liking Armin's _sweet sauce_!"

Connie hid behind Sasha once he gained his feet. "Oh, I'm totally stealing that one from you."

Sasha gave Connie a shit-eating. "Please do, and often!" The two started giggling to each other again. Jean began to pelt them with mud.

Even Armin wasn't spared from the attack. He'd peeked over the edge of the stable wall once more and earned a face full. Sasha had knocked one of Jean's mud balls to the side, splattering Armin.

"Hey!" Jean shouted. He scooped up two hands full of more mud, darting forward, shoving the mud over both Sasha's and Connie's head. "Don't hit Armin with that shit!"

Sasha scowled, trails of the thick brown mud dripping over her face. She deliberately grabbed another scoop of mud and plopped it on Armin's head. "Then you shouldn't hit Connie with it!"

They were surprised when Connie lept at Jean with the bucket full of mud he'd hastily collected. Just as Connie was shoving the bucket over Jean's head, Armin had climbed up on the stable wall and was dousing Sasha with his own bucket of mud. From that point, it was every man for himself.

Jean grabbed Armin from the wall and carried him over his shoulder outside into the muddy road before dropping him with an evil grin. Connie got the same treatment from Sasha, but landed on his face again. He spat out a mouthful of mud. Jean and Sasha each began to get the other into the largest puddle just on the other side of the road. Armin grinned as he launched himself at Connie, aiming for the same goal.

Their shouts and laughter had attracted the attention of the others, though. Captain Levi and Hange were watching from the little covered porch. Hange was smiling, but Levi was scowling.

"They're filthy," Levi muttered darkly.

"They're having _fun_," Hange countered quickly. "They're still children, after all."

"They ceased being children the moment they joined the Survey Corps." Levi made to turn to go back inside, but Hange stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You can't tell me you honestly believe that." She gave him a small smile. "Besides, after everything they've just been through, don't you think it's only fair that they be given just a few hours to enjoy themselves? We've more battles to fight, and very little time to fight them."

Levi didn't show any sign of acknowledgement. Hange's hand slipped from his shoulder. He paused after he opened the door and looked over his shoulder. "Don't let them come in like that. Make them strip and get the mud off first." Hange beamed down at him and nodded.

"Jean likes sweet sauce!" Sasha squealed just as he wrestled her into the big puddle. He shoved her head under the water for just a moment. Levi just rolled his eyes and shut the door behind himself.

"Watch out, Armin!" Hange called from the porch. Connie was over him, about to grab him and toss him into the pool of mud as well. Thanks to Hange's call, Armin rolled to the side and caught Connie from below, knocking him in instead. Jean and Armin grinned at each other. Connie and Sasha were spitting out the muddy water and grimacing, but grins were back in place just a second later.

"We win!" Armin declare triumphantly. Jean's grin darkened, though, and soon, Armin was in the puddle between Sasha and Connie, sputtering.

Sasha tossed her arms around Armin and laughed. "Looks like he got us all, Armin!" She put another handful of mud in Armin's hair. "You should make him even nicer!"

Hange giggled when Armin turned red. It was easy enough to figure out what Sasha was talking about after she'd screamed that nonsense about 'sweet sauce'. She waved over to them. "You aren't allowed to come inside until you're clean! So finish with the horses and then strip! I'll have buckets waiting here for you!" She watched as their faces fell slightly and then brightened into grins once more. Sasha's grin was almost feral. Hange just shook her head and went inside to the much more dismal atmosphere.

Jean pulled Armin to his feet while Connie helped Sasha to hers. The went back to the stables and took care of the remainder of the horses and tried to clean up some of the splatters of mud everywhere. They were all shivering by the time they made their way to the porch. Between the rain and the mud, they were soaked to their bones. True to her word, Hange had left four buckets of water and enough soap for all of them. There was a stack of towels as well.

It took a while for them to wrestle their way out of their harnesses, but they managed with several jabbing elbows and sharp knees. The porch really wasn't large enough for the four of them, but no one wanted to wait for the others to finish. The little red marks that had decorated Jean's chest the night before had faded, but Sasha managed to find one on his shoulder and poke it hard.

"Aw, look, love bites!" She cackled wildly before Jean shoved her backwards off of the porch and into the mud. "Connie! You should have defended me!"

Connie shook his head and shrugged as he wrestled with his pants. "You can take care of yourself. You tell me that all the time!" He tossed his pants into the pile of the rest of his wet clothes and grinned down at her as she scrambled to her feet.

"That's harsh," Jean muttered with a smirk. He and Armin were having just as much trouble with their pants as Connie had. The fabric seemed to have shrunk and felt like a second skin. When Sasha made her way back to the porch, she tugged away her shirt and smacked Jean's back with the end, earning a sharp yelp. He bumped into Armin as he jumped away from the blow.

"Ow," Armin grumbled, rubbing the back of his head. He'd hit the wall. He stumbled back to where he'd been before, his feet still caught in his pants as he struggled to get them off. The next thing he knew, Sasha was behind him. She gripped the hem of his shorts and snatched them down.

He fell when she moved away, scrambling to pull his shorts back up. Connie and Sasha were laughing so hard they couldn't stand. Even Jean was laughing, though at least he was making an attempt to stifle it. He knelt in front of Armin and helped him free his feet before pulling him to his feet. Armin was flushed all over, too embarrassed to even yell at Sasha.

He was the first one clean and back inside, abandoning Jean to Sasha's and Connie's taunts. Jean followed as fast as he could and met Armin upstairs as he was toweling off and trying to dress once more. Jean took the precious moment they had alone and hugged him from behind, chuckling a little.

"We knew this was gonna happen," he muttered.

Armin nodded and sighed a little. "Didn't realize Sasha was going to do _that_, though." Jean could see his cheeks tint pink again. He laughed. "It's not funny, Jean!"

"It kinda is," Jean said, stepping away from Armin and finding his bag of clothes. He dried himself off before stripping off his still-wet shorts and pulling on clean and dry ones. Armin was doing the same across the room. Jean could tell he was still flustered.

Connie came in just as they were finished dressing. Jean was still buttoning his shirt, but Armin was ready to bolt. Connie dissolved into a fit of laughter once more. "That was priceless!"

"N-no it wasn't!" Armin argued, once again flustered.

His embarrassment continued on through the afternoon, even when they were downstairs and near the others. Connie or Sasha would mutter something and Armin would turn pink and grimace. Jean tried to tell him it was alright, but nothing he said seemed to help.

Eventually, Sasha and Connie were forced to abandon their little game for a while. The time had come to go and collect the two MPs that tortured Minister Nick to death…

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_Tell me I'm funny! o.o; _


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